


Can't Help Falling In Love

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Morning, Comfort, Dentist at some point, Finch can't cook, Finch is like really insecure, First Kiss, Fluff, Harold is John's bae, Hurt/Comfort, John sacrifices himself too much, Kissing, Laser Tag, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SO MUCH FLUFF, Shameless Smut, Shopping Trip, Snowstorms too, Some angst, Some missing scenes, They adopt kids, Valentine's Day Fluff, Whipped Cream, valentines day, yes two of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 28,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9912596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: So this is going to be a bunch of short Rinch fics that I really need to write because I'm having Person of Interest withdrawals lol I hope you enjoy them!Thanks to M_E_Lover for the beta work on all of them!





	1. Less Talk, More Kissing

**Author's Note:**

> This first one is a missing scene from 3x18 Allegiance.

Harold dragged John back to the back bedroom in the safe house and pushed him down onto the bed.

“Jumping out of a window, John? Really,” Harold scolded and made his way into the bathroom to grab butterfly strips and anti-septic.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time…” John replied and started to unbutton his shirt.

Harold huffed and rolled his eyes as he returned from the bathroom, “Shirt please.”

John smirked, but then winced at the sharp pain in his ribs, “Ahh.”

Harold t’sked, “You know,” He motioned for John to lift his arm to reveal his ribs, “You’re not alone anymore John,” He rubbed over the gash on John’s side with an antiseptic wipe, “People care about you. And I don’t think they’d appreciate it if you jumped to your untimely demise out of a window.”

“Harold… why don’t you just say you love me?” John smirked and moved closer to Harold’s face.

Finch put a finger in his partner’s face, “Unless you would like these stitches vastly out of proportion, I suggest you back away Mr. Reese.”

_Mr. Reese. Ouch_. John thought. Harold only calls him that when he’s mad. John stayed quiet the rest of the time Harold stitched him up, and applied three neat butterfly strips to the red, swollen wound.

Harold cleaned up the scraps from the bandages and cleaning wipes, “I love you,” He murmured under his breath and turned away to toss away the scraps in his hands.

“What was that?” John chuckled, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Harold turned around and glared at the ex-op sitting on the bed, shirtless, and smiling so big Harold figured his cheeks must hurt. He moved over in front of him, “Good Lord you are impossible," Harold teased and leaned in to press his lips to John’s.

He shifted his hand down, two fingers beneath John's collar and his thumb at the hollow of John's throat. John started to pull at Harold's tie.

Harold pulled back, “Ms. Shaw and Ms. Martinez are downstairs waiting for us, John,” He breathed out, his forehead pressed against his partners.

“They can wait a little longer,” John laughed and pulled Harold down on top of him.

Harold groaned and rolled over, “I suppose…” John presses their lips together again and untucks Harold’s shirt from his pants, “We could tell them…” John unbuckles his belt, “That the stitches were a challenge…”

John sighs and looks into his partner’s eyes, “Harold. Less talking. More kissing.”


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by this Fanart.... http://l3onnie.deviantart.com/art/Nap-398037441  
> Sorry I have no clue how to post pictures on here lol

John and Harold were in the huge library in Harold’s brownstone, well Harold never admitted that it was bigger than any normal person’s home library. But John seemed to think otherwise.

Bear was sleeping on his luxury doggy bed in the corner, snoring away.

John was sleeping on Harold’s shoulder, snoring away.

He had fallen to sleep while Harold was reading _The Trials of Oscar Wilde._ Harold didn’t blame him, not everyone could get into this book, plus the fact that they had three numbers in a row and John hadn’t slept in almost three days didn’t help matters.

Harold was covered up in a nice burgundy plush throw, not big enough for the two of them and John would not let Harold give it to him.

Harold paused his reading and looked down at the younger man, snoozing on his shoulder. His arms were crossed and he would occasionally murmur something in his sleep.

He wondered what John was dreaming of, what wonders that someone who had probably seen more in just 40 odd years of his life than anyone else would see in their entire lifetime, could dream of.

Of course, Harold knew that John’s previous profession had brought on the occasional wake up in the middle of the night screaming in a cold sweat nightmares but Harold always hoped that those were fewer and farther between now.

John’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at his partner with foggy exhausted eyes, “Harold. What are you staring at?” He rasped and cleared his throat.

Harold chuckled and rolled his eyes, he could never catch John off guard, or sneak up on him. Never could watch him sleep because he would always wake up. He assumed that’s what he got for having a former government op as a boyfriend.

“What were you dreaming about?” Harold asked with a smile.

John looked at him, confused, but then replied, “Books.”

Harold looked surprised.

“Lots and lots of books. Mainly them surrounding us as I throw you down onto the couch.” He smirked that sinful smirk that made Harold want to take him right then and there.

“Oh…” Harold gulped, “Well…”

John lunged and his lips met Harold’s.

Harold melted even further into the couch as more tension eased from his shoulders. The book fell to the floor.

John kissed his forehead, the ridge of his nose, his ear. Harold took a shaky breath.

“Mmmmmmm.” John murmurs. “You were naked in my dream Harold.” He laughed and started to unbutton Harold’s shirt and proceeded to reenact the scene that he had awoken from.


	3. Scars

John and Harold lay in bed. John is snuggled up behind Harold, his heat radiating into Harold like a sauna.

John was shirtless, but his silk blue boxer briefs remained.

Harold was in his silk button-down pajamas. He never wore anything else when going to bed.

John sat up on one elbow and cleared his throat, “Harold?”

Harold groggily groaned, “Yes?” And rolled over to face his partner.

“I… well… I was just wondering…” John trailed off, “Never mind.”

“John… if something is on your mind, by all means… enlighten me.” Harold replies with sleepiness heavy in his voice.

“How come you never take your shirt off?” John blurts out. He’s fairly certain he knows the answer… but it’s been eating at him since they first began this part of their relationship.

Harold blinks, obviously surprised this is what John wanted to talk about. “I…” Harold starts, “Does it bother you?”

John sighs, “No. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” He kissed Harold’s forehead, “Go back to sleep.”

“No John.” Harold closed his eyes, “I don’t remove my shirt because…” He breathes out, “I’m not very fond of the scars on my neck and back.”

John’s heart aches for his partner. His chest feels tight with sorrow, “Harold…”

“I realize there’s nothing I can do about them and eventually I will have to show you… but it’s just that I have never shown anyone before.” Harold admits and John wants to pull him close and never let go.

“Harold. You don’t have to be embarrassed. If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to. I completely understand.” John murmurs into Harold’s ear and trails soft kisses along his cheek.

“Thank you, John.” Harold huffs. “But, I might as well get it over with.”

John didn’t say anything and let Harold sit up and start to unbutton his shirt. He tentatively slipped it off his shoulders and looked away from John.

“Oh, Harold...” John can’t help but frown at the sight of the scar tissue on Harold’s neck, stretching from his skull down past the base of his neck. Even worse, the other scar that spreads from the middle of his shoulder blades to the top of where his hip starts. 

Harold isn’t looking at John, and John can see that the tips of his ears are a bright pink, “Hey.” He places his hand on Finch’s jaw and turns it toward him, “Scars are nothing to be ashamed of.”

Harold scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I mean it. They just show how much of a tough son of a gun you are, Finch.” John smiles and places a gentle kiss on Harold’s lips.

“Thank you, John,” Harold replied with tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get some sleep.” John chuckles and hands Harold his pajama shirt.

Harold lifts his hand up, “No thank you. I’m just fine.” He smirked and relaxed back down into his endless supply of pillows.

John smiled and rolled over to turn out their bedside lamp. He snuggled back up to Harold and burrowed his face into the crook of his neck. He placed gentle kisses onto the scar tissue that told the story of a once broken man.

Harold falls asleep in the arms of the only man he’s trusted in a very long time.


	4. Without you

Finch made his way into the bedroom inside the safehouse after conversing with Ms. Shaw.

"He's gonna be sore as hell for a few days, but he should be okay in a month or so," She had told him.

"Thank you, Miss Shaw. I will contact you when another number comes up," Harold replied shortly with a frown.

"I'll be back tomorrow to check on him," Shaw replied and made her way out the door without another word.

Finch sat down, fixing the blanket beneath the younger man's hand.

He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face, "Sometimes I wish you would just allow me to get shot," he whispered, "because it would no doubt be better than this..." He paused and glanced around the room, "This waiting. Waiting for you to wake up. Never being quite sure if you'll be alright."

Harold grabbed the pitcher of water from the bedside table and poured a glass, ready for when his partner wakes up.

"It's been close before John..." Harold choked out, "but this was far too close."

John and Harold were tailing a rather dangerous number, military background, shady history after that, a little bit like John.

Except this number didn't have Harold to pick him back up and give him a purpose.

John had gotten into a fight with him, was knocked to the ground and that's when their number pulled a gun on Harold. John leaped in front of the bullet that drove its way into his chest.

Luckily Shaw and Fusco arrived just in time to take down the gunmen and get Reese to safety.

"You think you're protecting me... But you're not," He rasped, "I cannot live without you, John."

Harold heard something from the bed, a barely audible rasp. He leaned forward, "John?"

"I... Can't... Either," John whispered with his eyes still closed. A grimace of pain etched on his face. 

Harold leaned down and kissed the injured man, "I know."


	5. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one night because I'm feeling extra Rinchy haha

John hadn’t replied and immediately Harold thought the worst.

Their secure line had gone dead right after he heard gunshots and John grunting.

“Mister Reese?!” Harold yelled for probably the fifth time without an answer, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He got up from his computer station and paced around. They’ve got him. Decima. Maybe Vigilance… or worse… the FBI.

Harold grabbed Bear’s leash, “Come on boy.” He hurried over to the gate with his cell phone in his hand, bringing up John’s last known GPS coordinates. “Let’s go get John,” He tried to stay calm but his heart was pounding in his chest and the adrenaline was starting to take over.

He turned around to lock the gate when the line opens, “Finch?”

“Oh, thank God. Mr. Reese, what happened?” Harold huffs out of breath.

“Couple of gang members were harassing this girl, things got ugly. Fusco’s coming to pick them up,” Reese replied nonchalantly, “I’ll be back in the library in a few.”

Harold disconnected the line. He unhooked Bear’s leash and limped back over to his computer chair. He slumped down into the chair and looked to Bear, “Well… I guess he’s okay then…”

…….

John arrived a few minutes later, Harold was at his computer typing on the keyboard. “Hello, Mister Reese.”

“Hey, Finch… new number?” John asks sipping his coffee.

“No…” Harold replied and stopped typing. He looked down at his hands lying on the keyboard.

“Something wrong Finch?” John asked and moved forward closer to Harold.

Harold turned in his chair, he wouldn’t look John in the eyes. After a moment, he stood up and his lips were on John’s with urgency. His hands clenched into fists, holding desperately onto John’s black jacket.

The kiss vaguely reminded him of a chemistry lesson in school, if the right two elements are put together, they explode.

Harold pulled back, his lips red and swollen. He looked away from John and started to apologize, “I’m terribly sorry Mr. Reese… I…”

John put his finger up to his mouth, “Shhh… don’t apologize…” He smiled and pulled his partner into a warm embrace, locking their lips together once more.


	6. What We Can't Control

Harold’s dreaming. He’s pinned under a giant pipe and it’s crushing his windpipe. He’s suffocating slowly. The overwhelming force of it making it almost impossible to breathe. His eyes are watering and he can’t seem to get the pipe to move, he doesn’t have enough strength.

It’s only when he finally wakes up, to his astonishment he finds it’s not a pipe cutting off his air supply, it’s John’s strong hands wrapped around his neck.

John was leaning over him, eyes dull and vacant, and the pressure against Harold’s throat wasn’t so much painful as it was frightening.

Harold’s heart was pounding in his chest from the sudden awakening terror, his mind still unclear from sleep.

“J… John…” Harold struggles to get out, “It’s me… Harold.”

He reaches up with his hands and tries anything to get his partner’s attention, which includes clawing at his neck because John won’t wake up and Harold can’t _breathe._

He clutched at John’s wrists, trying to pull or push them away, but not being able to move them a fraction.

Finally, John’s eyes suddenly snap back to reality and he tears his hands away from Harold’s throat. John’s eyes widened and he stumbles back away from him; his back hitting the wall next to their bed. Harold rubbed his throat, “It’s okay John,” He coughed, “I’m fine...” Harold hid his grimace, even though John wasn’t looking.

Harold got out of bed to move closer to the ex-op…

“No,” John held up a shaky hand, “I’m… I shouldn’t… I’ll be in the Livingroom,” he faltered over the words, his sweat-soaked shirt stuck to his skin.

Harold opens his mouth to protest, but John is already out of the bedroom and into the hallway.  

Harold gets up and puts his robe on, making his way out into the Livingroom.

He sees John at the bar in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Harold makes his way over and sits on one of the stools right next to John, who doesn’t say anything as he takes a sip of whiskey.

Harold grabs one of the glasses off the counter and slides it over next to John, signaling him to pour him a glass as well.

John does as much and slides it back to Harold.

They sit there in mutual silence until John gets up to leave.

 Harold grabs his wrist and holds him there, right next to him until John trembles and says Harold’s name reverently like something sacred on his lips.

He looks at him with a frown, he runs his fingers over the angry red marks on Harold’s throat, “I’m so sorry.”

“John… I am perfectly fine,” Harold whispers and looks into John’s eyes, “Now, please. Come back to bed,” Harold tugs on John’s wrist.

John reluctantly follows with his head down. He and Harold get into bed and Harold pulls the sheets and comforter over the both of them.

Harold tugs John close, folds him up into his arms, and murmurs soothingly to him until John is weeping in his arms.

John has his head pillowed on Harold’s chest, and Harold runs his fingers through John’s black and graying locks. 

Harold gets his free hand under John’s chin and turns it up so he can press a kiss against John’s lips. Dried tears stain John’s cheeks and he lifts up his hand to wipe them away.

“Harold. Maybe I shouldn’t sleep in here anymore. I would never forget myself if I…” He trails off at the thought of harming Harold.

“John. Look at me,” John’s watery eyes glance up to his partner, “You were sleeping. I’m fine. You were asleep. It’s okay.” Harold soothes and runs his fingers up and down John’s back, over his spine.

John stares, miserable, at the red marks on Finch’s neck, the proof of just how close he came to killing him, he shudders at the thought.

“Harold… I won’t be able to forgive myself if I hurt you… or worse…” John croaks out, and the tears start to flow again.

“John…” Harold whispers, “I am fine.” He puts a finger on John’s chin again and makes him look him in the eyes, “We can’t even be certain if this will happen again.”

John smiles and kisses Harold, “How did I get so lucky?”

Harold just smiles back and kisses his partner on the forehead, and he leans back to turn their bedside lamp off.

John snuggles in close, his head resting on Harold’s chest and his arm wrapped around his stomach, “I love you, Harold.”

“I love you too John, never forget that. We can’t torture ourselves with what if’s. We can only live one day at a time and appreciate what we have right now, right in this moment. We will forget this ever happened, do you think you can do that for me?” Harold asks in the darkness.

“I can try, is that okay?” John replies somberly.

“That’s all I ask of you John, thank you. Now let’s go to sleep.” Harold replies warmly and lets John snuggle in even closer.


	7. Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was brought on by a wonderful prompt idea from M_E_Lover!

John entered the library to see Harold sitting in his usual throne at his computer station. Bear was laying at his feet on his doggy bed.

John could tell Finch had been up all night, the dark circles under his eyes and his usual straight posture had turned into a slouch. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. 

John snuck up behind him and placed his hands on the hacker’s tense shoulders and started to rub little circles into his muscles, “Somebody didn’t get any sleep,” he whispered.

“Mr. Reese. I’d appreciate it if you would do me the courtesy and give me a warning before you sneak up on me,” Finch murmured, sinking further into his partner’s gentle massage.

“Mr. Reese?” John asked with concern. He hadn’t looked on the screen yet, when he finally did, he was shocked to see a familiar face staring back at him, “New number?” He swallowed.

“Yes,” Harold sighed, “And before you act like nothing’s out of the ordinary, may I remind you… I know almost everything about you John,” Harold replied with a little annoyance.

 _John. Phew._ Reese took a mental sigh of relief, but the fact that one of his ex-girlfriends was on the screen still had him in shock.

“I am aware of the fact that you and Miss Westbrook were in a relationship at one point…” Harold stood up and limped over to the kitchenette.

“I’d hardly call it a relationship, Finch,” John scoffed, “More like an ‘I was on leave and she was the first girl in the bar that talked to me’ type of thing.”

“While I appreciate that your moral compass has come a long way since your stint in the armed forces, John,” Harold cleared his throat and John could swear Harold was getting emotional, “I’d understand if… If something were to happen.”

John had no clue what Harold meant, “Something were to happen?” He asked confused, “Finch… wait you don’t…” John frowned at the older man standing in front of him, his ears and cheeks turned a bright red. John moved over closer to his partner and put his hands gently on his arms, “Harold. I’m yours. Will be until I take my last breath.”

Harold smiled a little embarrassed, “It’s just that I understand if you… want other things. I know I’m not the most attractive person and my limitations in the… ah, sexual… department are somewhat… limited and can be tedious…”

John lunged forward and pressed his lips to the rambling older man, “You are attractive to me. And your ‘limitations’ are not tedious.” John laughed, “They’re what make you… you.”

Harold smirked and looked down at his feet. His cheeks became even redder.

“And I love you.” John pressed his lips to his forehead, a warm loving kiss.

John saw Harold visibly relax, “Thank you, John.” He went back over to his computer and started to type again.

“Hey,” John said, “I never finished what I started,” John laughed, reminding Harold of his earlier massage.

Harold looked at John with mock annoyance, “Mister Reese. We have work to do.”

John smiled and moved back over to his position behind Harold, “Yes and that involves you laying down on the couch and letting me make you forget about all the stress…” He placed his hands on Harold’s lower back and started to run his hands up and down, “Taking all these knots away,” John smiled when Harold let a tiny moan slip out of his mouth.

“I suppose…” He sighed, “We could ask Detective Fusco to take a look into Miss Westbrook.”

“Atta boy Finch.” John laughed and tugged his partner out of the chair and pulled him over to the couch.


	8. How this ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah.

It was the middle of January. Bitterly cold outside and New York was getting pounded with the “snow storm of the century” as dubbed by multiple news stations.

John brought in Harold’s hot Sencha tea and set it down next to him.

Harold was snuggled up in the covers on their bed. The power had gone out about an hour ago, and the backup generator Harold had was on the fritz. Luckily, they had a fireplace.

John tossed some more wood onto the fire and prodded it with a fire poker, “Need anything else while I’m up?” John asked.

“Just you,” Harold beamed from ear to ear.

John smirked back and made his way into bed next to Harold. He slipped under the covers and moved in next to Harold’s side and tucked his head into his shoulder.

Harold wrapped an arm around his shoulder and lazily ran his fingers through John’s hair.

John still isn’t used to this… this relationship. He’s enjoying it while he can because someday fate will catch up with him and he won’t be able to feel this closeness anymore.

He finds some comfort at least in the fact that Harold’s voice is the last he’s likely to hear while he’s bleeding out somewhere.

He half expects it to all disappear when he closes his eyes because of all the things he deserves, this truly isn’t it.

Harold nudged him out of his thoughts with a kiss, “You’re thinking too much again John,” he murmured.

John ‘hmms’ against Harold’s lips with a smile, “You know they say you need to huddle together to stay warm in these situations Finch,” his hand drifts down to Harold’s waistband.

“John…” Harold sighs, “I believe that’s for when people are… oh,” Harold’s eyes close in pleasure and he gasps, a sharp intake of breath when John runs a finger over Harold’s cock.

“What was that?” John laughs and slips down under the covers.

\-----------

Harold can’t believe he has this. He finally has someone he can trust again. Someone he can confide in again.

But Harold knows it won’t last. As much as he would like to think John is indestructible, there will come a day when there won’t be an answer on the other end of the line. No more “I’m okay, Finch,” or “Worried about me Harold?”

All he’ll get in return to his question is silence.

"Finch?" Reese asked, his voice low and soft, his fingers brushing against the small of Finch's back. “You’re thinking too much again,” John mocks in the way Harold had done earlier.

Harold leaned over and rested his forehead against John's shoulder just for a moment.  “I want you to start wearing your vest more often,” Harold blurts out. The look of absolute embarrassment on his face makes John’s heart ache.

“Finch…” He starts…

“No,” Harold lifts his hand to John’s mouth, “Just… promise me you’ll start wearing it more often. Also, when you’re in trouble… call Detective Fusco or Ms. Shaw,” he says with John's large hand creeping under Harold's undershirt to rub warmly against his abdomen.

John can’t help but smile. He and Harold both know how this ends… but there’s no point in not enjoying the here and now, “Okay,” John finally says, “I promise,” John's voice was achingly soft. He squeezed Harold's hand.

Harold smiles and settles himself back against the warmth of Reese's body, “Good,” Harold breathes and they both close their eyes to fall asleep.


	9. Did it hurt?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good lord the fluffiness of this one...

“Careful Finch,” John starts when he gets out of the car and shuts his door, he jogs over to Harold’s side of the car, “Let me help.”

“Mr. Reese. I am not an invalid, I can exit the car by myself,” Finch scolds back, slightly stumbling backward as he tries to stand up.

“No, you’re not, but it’s only been a day,” John slipped his hand behind the small of Harold’s back, “Spinal decompression surgery is hardly something to take lightly.”

“I’m fine,” Harold huffed, but the wince of pain when he took a step told John otherwise.

John got Harold into his loft and helped him to the bed, “I’ll be right back with your pills and some food.”

Harold gave a tired smile in thanks and sunk further down under the covers.

\-------

John was laying on his side, propped up on an elbow, with Harold sleeping on his back next to him. The pain killers had knocked him out only a few minutes after he finished the pudding John insisted on helping him eat.

Harold’s eyes remained closed but his mouth opened, “Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me, Mr. Reese?” He sighed and opened his eyes to look at his partner.

“Just… wondering if it hurt,” John whispered.

“I’m sorry?” Harold asked.

“If it hurt…” John started, “When you fell from heaven,” John was trying to contain his smile, “That is how you hurt your back, isn’t it?”

“Oh, my God.” Harold huffed and rolled his eyes, “You can’t be serious.” 

“As a heart attack, Harold,” John giggled and leaned down to kiss the hacker.


	10. Spring Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this one came from honestly lol guess I figured the boys needed a vacation

Harold limped down the platform stairs and into the subway car. He tossed his briefcase onto one of the seats that still partially lined a small area of the car and turned, making his way over to his computer station, he slumped comfortably into his ergonomic office chair and let out a sigh.

John was already there, looking into a lead they had on one of the suspects in a homicide he and Fusco were working on at the computer station inside the subway car, he walked out of the car and approached Harold at his preferred workstation, “Well you seem… relaxed,” He smirked at the sight of Harold lying back, relaxed in his computer chair with his eyes closed.

“Professor Whistler is officially on Spring Break,” Harold sighed contentedly with his eyes still closed.

John laughed, “Oh, is he?” He moved over to Harold and placed both hands on either side of the older man’s armrests and leaned in closely, “Well I think that calls for a celebration.” John smiled again, his eyes laughing.

“You’re on duty detective,” Harold teased.

“Role playing Harold?” John chuckled, “I never figured you’d be into that kind of thing,” John purrs and leans down to press soft kisses to the side of Harold’s face, moving enticingly slowly and moving further down. He breathes on the nape of his neck, and Harold shivers.

“Wait… John…” Harold groans, “Miss Groves and Miss Shaw will be here any moment…”

John stops what he’s doing and looks into Harold’s eyes, “And why is that?”

Just then Shaw and Root walked in through the gate, Bear greeting them as they get farther into the expansive room, John is still pinning Harold in the chair, looking at him alluringly.

“If we’re interrupting something, we can come back,” Shaw says with a grin on her face.

Root walks over and sits in one of the chairs at the computer station and props her feet up on the desk, “Did you tell him yet Harry?”

“Tell me what?” John asks and stands up, brushing down the front of himself to smooth out his suit.

“No Miss Groves, I have not,” Harold stood up and smoothed out his suit as well, he turned and stared at Root’s feet with his eyebrows raised.

She held her hands up in surrender and sat up grinning, removing her feet from the desktop to lay them flat on the floor.

“Tell me what?” John asked, slightly agitated this time.

“Calm down John,” Shaw replied, annoyed, “Harold, will you just tell him before he goes all whiney boyfriend on us.”

“Too late,” Root mocked. John glared at her.

Harold opened a desk drawer and pulled out two pieces of paper, “Here,” He handed them to John, “We leave in an hour.”

John looked down at the two plane tickets in disbelief, “What?” He huffed, “You’re… taking me to Jamaica… for Spring Break?” John looked at Harold with a surprised and excited grin on his face.

“Yes well… I assumed after last week that we could use a… get-a-way of sorts,” Harold smirked.

John smiled but then his face turned into a frown, “Finch, I don’t know if I can get the time off work…”

“No need to worry John, Detective Fusco has already arranged for you to have the week off,” Harold pulled his suitcase out of seemingly nowhere, “but he did mention something about you doing his paperwork for a month or something along those lines.”

Reese rolled his eyes, “Looking forward to it.”

“Yes, now if you would be so kind as to go pack, John,” Harold motioned towards the subway steps, “I really would like to be on time.”

\----

The plane ride was long and uncomfortable for Harold. Even the cushiest first class seats wreak havoc on a fused spine and a pelvis with numerous pins and screws in it and John felt bad for Harold having to put up with the inconvenience of it all.

They made their way out of the terminal and into the car that Harold had waiting for them, the dry heat from the sun hitting them as they walked out the door.  
John helped Harold put the bags into the trunk and then got in on the driver’s side and the two of them made their way towards the beach house rental.

“Ya know Finch, all the places I’ve been over the years, this isn’t one of them,” John chuckled as he maneuvered their car onto the main road.

“I’m aware of that Mr. Reese,” Harold replied with a smile, “why do you think I chose this place?”

\---

John unloaded the bags out of the trunk and carted them into the house, Harold checked in with Root and Shaw letting them know that they had arrived safely to their destination.

Shaw had replied with ‘ _Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, boys_.’ Followed by a winky face emoji.

“I see Miss Shaw is having a lot of fun with this,” Harold scoffed and set his phone down on the table. As soon as he turned around John had pulled him into his arms and began trailing soft kisses down his cheeks and neck.

“Why don’t we see what the bedroom looks like?” John chuckled alluringly into Harold’s ear, “I have a feeling we’ll be spending a majority of our time in there anyway.”

“That sounds like an extraordinary idea,” Harold hummed and tugged John through the house and into the bedroom.

\----

Reese held Finch close, breathing in his scent mixed with the fresh warm air flowing in from the open sliding glass door.

Harold snuggled closer, threw and an arm around Reese’s shoulders and pressed closer to the man. He tucked his head into Reese’s chest, “I could get used to a week of this,” Harold smiled into John’s chest.

“Me too,” John laughed and kissed Harold’s forehead, “But we will have to eat at some point,” John says but he doesn’t ever want to leave the bed. He rubs his thumb over the soft skin at the base of Harold’s wrist.

Harold scratched the back of John’s neck lightly with his fingernails, John shivered and melted a little more, “I could eat,” Harold laughs.

“Let’s order something, what kind of food do they have here?” John asks with a grin, he sat up in the bed to grab his cell phone off the bedside table.

“I hear they have the best fried dumplings in the world,” Harold says, “Oh and supposedly the chicken is to die for.”

“Fried Dumplings and Chicken it is then.” John made the call and they took their time caressing and cuddling while they waited.

\---

There’s a knock on the door and John grabbed his gun off the dresser without thinking and sprang to his feet.

“John,” Harold hissed with his brows furrowed.

“Only the paranoid survive, Harold,” John teased and made his way out into the entry room in only his boxers. He paid the delivery boy and gave a nice tip as suggested by Harold.

He made his way back into the bedroom with the food and two bottles of cold beer from the fridge, “I brought some of your sencha if you want that instead,” John said, setting the food down on Harold’s lap.

“This is fine,” Harold smiled up to John, “It smells wonderful,” Harold sighs and starts to dig into his chicken. “Mmmmmmmm,” He groaned at the flavor, “Amazing.”  
John looked over and grinned, “Well I see I’m going to have to step my game up… Don’t want to take a back seat to chicken.” He teased.

\---

They finished the food and John came back into the bedroom after taking care of everything to see Harold up trying to stretch out his back.

“Plane ride?” John asked, knowing the seats could be hell for his 6’3 frame he could only imagine what it must be like for someone with metal holding the majority of their body together.

“Yes,” Harold sighed.

John walked over and put his warm hands on Harold’s shoulders, “I think I can help.”

“No, John I’m fine really.”

“Harold get on the bed or I’ll _put_ you on the bed,” John smirked.

Harold huffed, “Fine.”

“Atta boy,” John laughed and helped Harold set up the pillows so that he would be comfortable. Harold didn’t relax under many circumstances… the man was wound tighter than a drum… but under John’s trusted hands… he could always relax.

Almost immediately, Reese’s thumbs found two sore spots and dug into them. Finch gasped in pain, but there was no escaping the other man’s strong grip.

“Breathe…” John soothed. Reese’s reliably expert hands moved down from Harold’s sore shoulders after a while and applied even pressure down his lower back, one hand on each side of his spine.

John grinned at the soft moans Finch would let escape every now and then soon, Finch’s breathing slowed down almost to the level of sleep. “Finch?” Reese whispered. There was no reply.

He got off the bed and kneeled down beside the older man to see that he had in fact fallen asleep under John’s hands. John smiled and pulled the blanket up over his partner and pushed back the hair from his forehead and pressed an easy kiss to it.

John went to the back of the house that stood facing the ocean, it sported a wide terrace. He sat down on the big comfy lounge bench, kicked his feet up and relaxed to the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore.

\---

Harold groggily opened his eyes to the roar of the ocean outside the bedroom window. He looked outside and saw that the sun was setting and realized that he must have fallen asleep while John was giving him a massage.

 _Where is John?_ He thought to himself. He lifted himself off the bed and slipped on his deck shoes and a t-shirt, already in his silk boxers and limped quietly and drowsily out of the bedroom.

Hearing a soft cough, he turned his head toward the terrace and saw John outside watching the gorgeous sunset dipping into the ocean.

Harold slid the door open, “Enjoying the view?”

“It’d be better if I had a certain someone to enjoy it with,” John chuckled and took a drink of his beer.

Harold sat on the other side of the bench and let out a long contented sigh.

“Is your back feeling better?” John asked and put his arm around Harold’s shoulder.

“Much,” Harold smiled and turned to kiss John, “Thank you for that, I feel much better.” He kissed him again. “In fact, I’m feeling like I would like to show you my appreciation,” Harold said and teased John’s mouth with his own enticingly.

\--

John was flush up against Harold’s back, both coming down from the ecstasy of after dinner sex, the warmth of John’s body surrounding Harold’s was captivating. Before Harold knew it, his mouth was open and he blurted out, “I love you, John.”

John smiled against Harold’s shoulder, getting up and capturing Harold’s mouth with his, “I love you too.” He sighed into Harold’s mouth. “How does it feel?” John kissed Harold’s neck and moved back to his mouth.

“How does what feel, John?” He sighed between kisses.

“Finally saying it.” He went back to kissing Harold’s neck and down his chest.

“Invigorating,” Harold sighed and fisted his hands in John’s hair, pulling him up to lock their mouths together again, “I love you.” he repeated and kissed him again, “I love you John,” he affirmed once more. “Always.”


	11. National Pi Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I heard on the radio this morning that it was National Pi Day, naturally, I had to write this.

Harold sat at his computer station, typing away. Hoping to find just a hint of something that would lead them to find out if their number was a victim or perpetrator before John got there.

Too late.

John walked in through the gate carrying a pink pastry box and entered the main workstation area in the library, “Morning Harold,” he leaned down to press a soft kiss into the older man’s spikey hair.

“Good morning John, I’m just getting information on our new number now,” Harold replied without looking up from his computer screen.

He had left John in bed this morning when he left instead of waking him up, he needed the sleep. Two days and three numbers called for around the clock surveillance, and while Harold had gotten in the occasional cat nap, John hadn’t slept.

“Why didn’t you wake me up this morning?” John asked as he set his box down onto the table in the small kitchenette.

“You needed sleep,” Harold finally turned around in his chair, “And do not argue with me. There is no point.”

“Come here,” John smiled as he peaked his head out of the kitchenette.

“What?” Harold huffed.

“Get your ass in here Harold,” John laughed and his head disappeared back into the other room.

Harold sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, _“Get a boyfriend, they said.”_ He mumbled to himself, _“It’ll be fun, they said.”_

Harold limped over to where John was waiting behind the table with his hands behind his back, “Close your eyes.”

“John…” Harold huffed, “What is it? I have work to do.”

“Close… your… eyes,” John replied this time with his brows raised.

Harold made an exasperated sound and threw his hands up in surrender, “Fine.”

He heard John making some noise and could tell he was setting something down on the table, “Okay. Open them.”

Harold opened his eyes to see a large pie… in the shape of a pi symbol.

He raised his eyebrows and had a slight smirk on his face, “Ummm…”

“Happy National Pi day,” John gave a big toothy smile.

“Oh, my God,” Harold chuckled and rolled his eyes. He made his way over closer to the pie, “What flavor?”

John made an offended scoff, “As if I would give my Harold anything but his favorite,”

“Chocolate Pecan?” Harold asked excitedly.

John just answered him with a kiss, “Of course.”

Harold touched John’s cheek, rubbing his stubble under the pad of his thumb, “Thank you.” He smiled and put his hand around John’s neck and brought him down for their lips to meet.

John melted against him, “You’re welcome.”


	12. It Won't Even Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Managerie gave me an idea on my last one about Dentists and it just kinda spiraled off from there haha.

Harold can hear John’s groan on the other end of the line, “John?” He asks, “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, Finch everything is…” There’s another small groan, “Fine.”

“Mister Reese,” Harold scolds, “What is wrong?”

“My jaw hurts,” John sighs and Harold gets a questioned look on his face.

“Your jaw hurts?” He pulls up the surveillance camera feeds from the restaurant John is in to get a look at him, “Have you been punched recently and forgot about it?” Harold asks because knowing John… that’s probably what happened.

John huffs and smirks, knowing damn well Harold has already pulled up the camera feeds to watch him, make sure nothing else is wrong. “No Harold. I have not gotten punched recently.”

 “Well…” Harold contemplates, “Come back to the Library, I’ll send Detective Fusco or Carter to keep an eye on Mr. Barton.”

“Harold, I’ll be… fine,” He gasped in pain before the last word.

“I’ve already contacted Fusco, he’s on his way,” Finch said and John could hear his typing through his earpiece.

“Fine,” John huffed and got up from the table he was sitting at to make his way towards the library.

\------  
Harold turned his chair to see John walking in through the gate to enter the library, “Mr. Reese,” He smiled.

“Harold, it’s really not a big deal,” He shrugged, “It already feels better.”

“Open your mouth,” Harold pointed to John’s chin.

“What?” John laughed.

“Open your mouth, let me see something,” Harold moved closer to John and stood on his tip toes.

John rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, tucking his chin into his chest so Harold could see better.

Harold looked for a moment and then he tsk’ed, “That’s what I thought,”

John kept his mouth opened and a barely audible, “Huh?” came out.

“You never had your wisdom teeth out,” Harold raised his brow, “And it looks like they’ve finally caught up with you.”

“How do you know I never…” John chuckled and sighed, “Never mind.”

“I’ll make an appointment with Harold Wren’s dentist as soon as possible,” Harold limped back over to his computer and started to make an appointment for John.

“No, wait,” John started, “I don’t…” He trailed off.

“What?” Harold asked, after a minute his head tilted to the side and his brows furrowed, “You’re afraid of the dentist?” Harold huffed.

John just looked away.

“John Reese… Mr. ‘I step in front of bullets for a living’ is afraid of the dentist?” He smirked, “Don’t worry John,” He added after he noticed John looked like he was going to leave, “They can knock you out, you won’t feel anything. They make excellent sedatives now-a-days.”  
\---

“It went well, we don’t see many people his age with them still in there.” The dentist came out into the waiting room to inform Harold, “I’m surprised he didn’t have problems before this.”

“Yes, well he’s… difficult at times,” Harold started, “It was like pulling teeth to get him in here… literally,” Harold scoffed mentally at his horrible pun, the doctor chuckled.

One of the assistants brought John out in a wheelchair, mouth full of gauze and a dopey smile on his face, “Harold!”  He yelled and went to stand up from the chair but sat back down, “Woah. The floor and the wall just switched.” He put his hands in front of his wide eyes and twisted them around, looking at them in amazement.

Harold tried not to laugh at the sight of his partner who usually was calm, cool and collected, now drugged up to his eyeballs and senseless.

Harold thanked the doctors and helped John out to the car, which took longer than expected, John laughed at almost everything he saw which caused him to groan in pain and put his hand to his jaw.

Finally in the car and belted up, Harold pulled out and onto the highway. John looked over to Harold with a slight grin on his face, “You are so hot.”

Harold looked over to John with a smirk, “What?” He huffed, the gauze making it hard to understand him.

“You… are… hot,” John said again, this time moving his hand over to pet Harold’s spikey hair, “Like so hot. I can’t understand how I got you.”

“Got me?” Harold was on the verge of bursting into laughter at this point.

“My mouth feels weird,” John said reaching a finger in his mouth to touch the cotton that was soaking up the blood, “What’s this?”

“John, no!” Harold squawked. He slapped John’s hand down, “Just… don’t touch your mouth, okay?”

John gave an annoyed sigh, “Okay.” He pressed his face up against the car window, “Harold?” He asked.

“Yes?” Harold replied, simply adoring the sudden innocence of John’s usual stern raspy voice.

“Why is my face… tingly?” John wiggled his fingers next to Harold’s face to put emphasis on ‘tingly’.

Harold laughed, “Because they numbed your mouth, John.” He pulled over into a McDonalds to get a shake for John to have later in the day.

“They what?” John asked, his eyes growing wide in alarm, “How… oh my God.”

“What’s wrong?” Harold asked, pulling up to the drive-through window.

“I forgot my name,” John closed his eyes and his head fell back against the headrest, “Oh no, this is bad.”

“Your name is John,” Harold replied shortly before grabbing the cup from the young man at the drive-through.

Reese mouthed the word John, moving his lips more than he needed to and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Before Harold pulled out onto the road, he stopped in one of the parking spots.

“I almost forgot,” he pulled out his phone, “Detective Fusco wants a video.”

John smiled when Harold turned the phone towards him, “Say hi to Detective Fusco, John.” Harold held back his laughter. But couldn’t help the small huff of air he let out that was a muffled laugh.

“Hi Detective Fusco, John,” Reese slurred and then cleared his throat and looked back out the window.

Finch sent the video with a few swipes of his finger, John would no doubt steal Lionel’s phone the next time they were together and delete it, so Harold wasn’t worried.

“Let’s get you home,” Harold chuckled and pulled back onto the highway.

“On the road again,” John started to hum, “Ohhhhh on the road again.”

\---

Harold brought John his shake, no straw because the dentist had told them to stay away from sipping things from a straw until the blood clots healed.

“Thanks,” John breathed out, laying on the couch in his loft.

“Welcome,” Finch replied and leaned down to kiss John’s forehead, “Any pain?”

“I’m…” John took a spoonful of the shake, “Fine.”

Harold sighed, if John didn’t admit to being in pain after he had gotten shot, he certainly wouldn’t after he had gotten some teeth cut out.

“Okay,” Harold started, “So, who’s supposed to win?” He asked, motioning towards the basketball game John was watching on TV.

“Duke. But I hate Duke… well… everyone hates Duke,” John smirked and picked up the blanket he had on and pulled it over Harold who had snuggled in next to him.

“Isn’t there any baseball on?” Harold asked, basketball not being his sport.

“No,” John replied, spooning more of the vanilla shake into his mouth. It was quiet for a while, just the sound of the TV flooding around them, “And don’t think I don’t remember you videoing me.”

“What?” Harold asked with an innocent smirk.

\---

“Here’s your phone back Fusco,” Reese handed the cell phone back to the other man who had a dumbstruck look on his face, “Yeah, try keeping it somewhere else other than your jacket pocket. Easiest place to take things from.”

John smirked and strode away from the Detective.


	13. Cooking and Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to M_E_Lover for the awesome prompt idea!

_Get home. Now._ John’s heart sank when he read the text from Harold.

He immediately took off from the precinct in a dead sprint.

“Hey, Riley! What the hell?” Fusco yelled to him.

“Gotta go, something’s wrong with Harold,” he huffed.

\---

John took his gun out from the small of his back and made his way through the door of Finch’s penthouse. He looked around for any signs of struggle, but there were none. But something was burning.

“Finch?” He yelled throughout the house.

When he got closer to the kitchen, he heard Harold cursing and then the fire alarm started to screech, “Harold?” He yelled again.

John kicked open the kitchen door with his gun raised to see Harold standing in front of the stove aiming a fire extinguisher at the flames erupting from the open oven.

Once the white foam had put the fire out, John dropped his gun to his side… “Uhmm…” He looked down at the stove.

Harold’s face screwed up in disgust, “I was trying to cook you a nice romantic dinner… but I seem to be lacking in the chef department.”

John looked at Harold sideways, clearly upset, “I thought something was really wrong…”

“Oh dear,” Harold started, “I’m sorry… I guess the text was a little… misleading… I apologize,” Harold said and moved closer to John.

John smiled, “It’s alright,” he leaned down and kissed the older man on the lips, “I’ll just have to show you how to cook now.”

===

Once they had the mess that Harold had made, cleaned up, they washed their hands and set to work. John had decided they were just going to try chicken marsala.

It was pretty simple, and with John there to supervise, they shouldn’t get into too much trouble.

For desert, it was going to be nice simple apple pie.

“Okay so the secret is that you only lightly brown the chicken, don’t burn it,” John said with a smart-ass smirk as he set the chicken down in the sauté pan.

“Oh, very funny,” Harold scoffed back.

“Think you can handle slicing the mushrooms?” John asked.

Harold just scoffed again and grabbed a knife out of the drawer.

A little while later, John was getting out the wine and other things needed for the dish when he heard Harold gasp, “Oh dear…”

“What is it?” John asked, walking over to Harold who was staring down at his hands, red blood dripping onto the counter, “Oh my…” John grabbed a towel off the table and wrapped it around Harold’s finger, “Did you seriously just cut your finger?”

“I…” Harold took a deep breath and then chuckled, “I think I should just leave the cooking part to you from now on.”  
“That sounds like a plan,” John said and unwrapped the towel a little to look at the cut on Finch’s finger, “Yeah, you may need a few stitches.”

“Great.” Harold started, feeling heat rise through him when he looked at the gash a little closer.

\--

"Terrible end to our romantic evening, I guess. Sorry about this…” Harold said queasily as John tugged the last stitch through his bloody skin.

“Don’t apologize,” John said, running an alcohol swab over his partner’s finger and placing a large bandage around it, “you were trying to do something nice, I appreciate it, but next time… maybe order take-out.”

Harold smiled, “I’ll remember that.”

John leaned in and kissed Harold, “Good,” he kissed him again, “because you can’t work your hacker mojo if you cut your finger off,” he kissed the corner of Harold's mouth, his temple, his mouth again…

“John… while this is a very attractive prospect we’re approaching here…” Harold sighed, “I’m feeling a lot better and I really am starving… but my hand is a little numb,” Finch’s lips quirked. “Would you mind…?”

John chuckled, “Okay, I’ll go finish dinner… but you stay in the living room.”

\--

John finished the preparation of the food and brought it to Harold who was relaxing on the couch a little later, “Here ya go.”

“Thank you, it smells delicious,” Harold sighed.

“I couldn’t have done it without you cutting up those two mushrooms,” John smirked and sat down next to the hacker on the couch.

Harold smiled again and leaned over to lay his head on John’s shoulder, “Love you.” John put his arm around him and Harold relaxed into his hold.

“I love you too,” John laughed, “Even if you are a horrible cook…” John laughed again, “And a klutz.”

“Alright alright, you don’t have to rub it in. How about we forgo the pie and have a kiss for dessert?” Harold asked suggestively.

“That my dear Finch, sounds like a perfect idea.” John leaned in and began the dessert course happily.


	14. Prince Charming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold and John talk about what happened in RAM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I guess

John rolled over and snuggled his partner close, “So… you were there?”

“Yes. Right up until you made the poor boy pull out his molars,” Harold cringed.

“Sorry about that…” John chuckled, “And the ginger… he was working for you?”

“Yes,” Harold started, “He was… a rather… how shall I say it… rash decision of mine.”

John huffed.

“I hired a couple before him…” Harold trailed off and John squeezed him even closer, heat radiating into every ounce of Harold’s body, “They all died.”

“I’m sorry…” John whispered, “But hey… the last I knew that guy…wait what was his name? Dill…?”

“Dillinger,” Harold replied distantly.

“Well Dillinger was alive last time I saw him, so how’d you get rid of him?” John asked with a smirk and kissed Harold’s cheek.

“I didn’t, he died the night you saved Mr. Casey…” Harold cleared his throat, “I believe it was Miss Shaw that wound up pulling the trigger and ending his life.”

John was silent for a moment before he turned Harold toward him, “Well sometimes you have to go through a few frogs before you get Prince Charming, Harold.” He needed to attempt to break Harold’s mood of melancholy.

Harold scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yes, I’m aware you are the best mercenary on the market Mister Reese.”

John frowned, “You know I don’t like that…” He teased.

“Sorry…” Harold smiled sadly, “How about… vigilante?”

“Better,” John grinned and leaned in and pressed his lips to Harold’s forehead, “Now let’s get some sleep,” he curled up against Harold's back.

After a few silent moments, Reese started to laugh.

“John?” Harold questioned.

John kept chuckling, “Nothing it’s just…” He calmed down a bit, “I _kicked his ass_ , Harold.”

Harold’s mouth opened, his eyes staring at John in annoyance, “Are you…”

“Well, it’s just that I’m glad you’re better protected with me now… because he was incompetent… and that’s putting it nicely.”

“You are not my bodyguard Mister Reese…” Harold whispered sleepily, “Now if you would please allow me to get some sleep…”

“Of course, Harold…” John whispered into his ear, brushed his hand through Harold’s spiky, soft brown hair and kissed him goodnight.

Soon after, Harold cracked a smile. Before long, both men were laughing out loud until it shook the bed. Harold turned to face his partner again, “Did you really just insult my dead ex-mercenary…” Harold stated through his laughter, “and please tell me you did not call yourself Prince Charming…”

They lay there in each other’s arms until their laughter turned to tears and they eventually nodded off.


	15. Professor Whistler's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know.

John pushed Harold back against the wall, grunting as he lifted his arms above Harold’s head and trapped him under his body.

“Mister Reese…” Harold sighed, “They’re going to hear us.” 

“Who?” John questioned and pressed his lips to Harold’s, “there’s no one here.”

Harold broke the kiss again, “I abhor the thought of public displays of sex Mister Reese…” He breathed out.

“This is hardly public, Harold…” John said, looking around Professor Whistler’s office. The blinds were shut, the door locked… and his receptionist had gone home for the night. 

“John… oh,” Harold groaned when John bit just the right spot on Harold’s neck that drove him crazy, “Ohhhh…” 

“Quiet Harold…” John teased into Harold’s ear, “Don’t want the principal to catch us.” 

“That would be the dean, John…” Harold whispered. 

John moved his hands down to open Harold’s belt, pushing his pants down to pool around his partner’s legs, then ran his hands down Harold’s thighs intimately. 

Harold fisted his hands in John’s hair and pulled him up to kiss him again. John groaned at his partner taking charge, “Harold…” He whispered. "Out of your pants, now.” 

Harold started to take a step out of his brown slacks, when he heard the door start to open. 

“Harry… why is the door locked? The Machine… Oh,” Root stopped in her tracks at the obvious scene in front of her. 

“Miss Groves!” Harold squeaked and pulled up his pants. His face was bright red and he turned so he wouldn’t have to look Root in the eyes. 

Shaw came waltzing in through the door a second later, “Why is everyone gone alrea…” She stopped in the doorway as well… “Oh… My… God,” she burst out into laughter, “Well I guess this is why everyone is gone.” 

“Don’t you knock?” John hissed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

“Obviously we need to start…” Root murmured, “We’ll… leave you two alone…” She grabbed Shaw by the arm, “the machine has a new number whenever you two finish your… meeting,” she teased.

“Don’t break the desk boys…” Shaw said before Root physically pushed her out of the room. 

Once the door was shut, Harold turned around and glared at John, “I told you this is why I didn’t want to do this!” 

“Harold…” John smiled, “Come on… they won’t come back now… and let’s face it… they were going to walk in on us sometime.” 

Harold sighed and turned away from John. 

“I mean… there isn’t a place in the subway we haven’t done it…” John moved closer to Harold and put his arms around his waist, “and there’s already been a few close calls…” 

Harold smiled a little bit at the memory of Root and Sameen coming down the steps to the subway as Harold and John both hurriedly put their clothes back on again. 

“Okay… but only this time… and make it quick…” Harold relented.


	16. Bow-ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was brought on by this picture, http://coinmint.tumblr.com/image/78331563051

John made his way up the steps and into Harold’s apartment. He ruffled up his bow tie, making it just messy enough that Harold would get irritated and fix it for him.

He held up the flowers, looking them over one last time. It was Valentine’s Day and he and Finch were going to a gala put on by one of Harold Crane’s charities.

John cleared his throat and knocked on the door. He put the flowers and card behind his back, hoping to make Harold wake a little longer for the presents.

“Just a moment…” He heard Harold yell from what seemed the other side of the apartment.

Soon, the door opened and revealed Harold in a nice navy blue three-piece suit, a dark blue bow-tie complete with tiny gray polka dots and a gray pocket square to top the ensemble off.

John smiled, “Looking rather dashing tonight, Finch,” he made his way into the apartment.

Harold smiled, but then his face scrunched in disapproval, “Mister Reese… seriously… how many times am I going to have to fix your tie for you?” Harold limped forward and corrected John’s tie to a position where he was happy with it, “Perfect,” Harold smiled again and stood on his tip toes to kiss John on the lips.

“Thanks,” John murmured, “These are for you,” John said, pulling the bouquet of flowers and card out from behind his back, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Harold looked at the flowers for a moment, “I… John…” Harold stumbled over the words, “Thank you,” he smiled and kissed the taller man again.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get going so we can get back here and celebrate properly,” John chuckled and slid his hand onto the small of Harold’s back, inching down a little bit to pinch one of Harold’s cheeks.

“John!” Harold hissed and slapped his hand away, “Please… we really must get to this gala… save your sexual innuendos for when we get home.”

“Anything you say, sweetheart,” John teased with a grin.

“You are impossible.”  


	17. As Long As You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two fics in one night because Rinch fans deserve the best! :D

“Harold… I’m fine,” John groaned.

Harold looked up at him unimpressed, “I’d beg to differ!” He looked back in front of him, looking out for any signs of danger and listening for police sirens.

He turned his head as far as he could and looked down to where John’s hand was covering the knife wound on his stomach, “Your hand is as red as a fire hydrant,” he whispered, keeping his voice down because his paranoia was at an all-time high.

“It’s… superficial,” John croaked out.

Harold could feel John was starting to slump against him more, his strength leaving his body, right in keeping with the blood seeping out of his stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Harold said, more for his own reassurance than his partner’s, “just hold on.”

Harold struggled to get him to the car then lowered him into the passenger seat. Shaw was waiting for them at John’s loft. Harold was really starting to rethink that idea and seriously considered taking John to a hospital instead. He wasn’t talking anymore… and Harold continuously kept looking at his chest to make sure he was breathing.

“No… hospitals…” John whispered out, “I’m just… resting.”

Harold huffed and his heart dropped when he saw the amount of blood on John’s usually snow white shirt and the horrific amount that covered his hand, “You’re ruining your suit… Gianni is not going to be happy.” He stepped on the gas pedal as hard as he could.

John gave a pained smile, “I’m sure… he’ll understand.”

Harold spent the rest of the drive looking between John and the road, checking to make sure John was still breathing.

Once they were at the loft, Shaw met them down on the street, taking most of John’s weight as they helped him up the stairs, “Get him on the bed and get his shirt off, actually get him down to his boxers,” she ordered Harold as they came in through the door.

\---

Harold lay on his side next to his partner in the bed. He was running his fingers through John’s sweat soaked hair, the black was much grayer now compared to when John first started working with Harold, he mused absently. Harold stared at the white bandage that now covered the stitches that Shaw sewed John back together with. 

Shaw left about an hour ago, leaving Harold with instructions of things to watch out for, infection and other things. Thank goodness it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Harold thought to himself.

“Usually when I wake up in bed with nothing but my boxers on… you’re naked too…” Harold heard the ex-op rasp out.

“Yes well… the situation changes when you almost die in the front seat of my car,” Harold scolded back, sitting up and getting off the bed to go get John a drink.

“Harold…” John groaned, “come here.” John patted the side of the bed with a sympathetic smile.

Harold rolled his eyes and relented… removing his shoes and socks, followed by his tie and jacket.

He shifted into bed, scooting close to John.

John lifted his arm and wrapped it around the older man’s shoulder, pulling him in close.

Something in Harold’s chest broke and he let out a sob, “John.”

“Hey… hey… what’s wrong?” John asked, rubbing Harold’s shoulder softly.

“There was so much blood,” Harold breathed out, he cleared his throat, “I cannot put into words how much I detest seeing you like that.” Harold’s sobs slowed down and quieted… John let him take his time. Build back up whatever defenses he needed to.

“You okay?” John asked and Harold sniffled and looked up at his partner…

“Yes…” Harold laid his head back onto John’s chest, “As long as you are.”


	18. Food Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Finch gets food poisoning and the boys snuggle... because what's a Rinch fic without snuggling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picked Captain America: Civil War as their movie because well... it's possibly one of the best Marvel movies... ever... lol

It was the perfect night. The two men had gone out to dinner and a movie, the new Captain America movie to be precise.

John wasn’t a big Marvel fan, but it was one of Harold’s favorite hero comics as a kid. After the movie, they went to their favorite Italian restaurant _Del Posto’s_ and ended the night with a couple of glasses of wine.

The walk home was uneventful, walking arm in arm they talked about the movie and other things. Once they got home, Reese had Harold down on the couch, his jacket and tie already off and his mouth eagerly attached to his partner’s, when Harold pushed John off of him and limped as fast as he could into the bathroom.

John’s brow furrowed, “Harold?” He got up and made his way slowly to the bathroom, “Something wrong?”

And that’s when heard Harold retching through the door, “I think…” He hurled again.

John got a confused look on his face and opened the door, revealing Harold on his knees, hunched over the toilet, “Are you trying to tell me my breath stinks?” John asked with a smirk.

“No…” Harold huffed and turned around, his face red and soaked with sweat, “I think I have…” He turned around hurriedly and hunched over the toilet again, “Food Poisoning.”

John went over and kneeled down next to his partner, running his palm over the older man’s back.

“Del Posto’s has betrayed me…” Finch groaned.

John helped him up, steadying him when he swayed a bit, “I think I have some Gatorade…” Reese said to himself as he helped Finch out of his dress pants and dress shirt.

Finch slumped down onto the bed in the loft, sighing and rolling into himself.

John brought back a bottle of blue Gatorade and also a bottle of water, “Here, drink the Gatorade first, you need to stay hydrated and keep your electrolytes up.”

Harold’s shaky hand grabbed the bottle and took a sip of the blue liquid, he winced, “how do you drink this stuff?”

“Because normal people who haven’t been spoiled with thousand dollar wine, actually like it,” John smirked and went to the kitchen. He brought back a plastic container, “in case you can’t make it to the bathroom…” He set it down on the bedside table next to Harold.

“Mister Reese… I am not…” He grabbed his stomach and groaned, “never mind. Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought,” John grinned and got into the bed, tossing off his shirt and throwing on a pair of flannel pajama pants.

He turned on the TV and as luck would have it… the first Avengers movie was on a movie channel.

Harold rolled over and tucked himself under John’s arm, nuzzling in closer.

“So… that green guy… the Hulk, right?” John asked.

“Yes…” Harold answered.

“He’s… basically the bad version of Captain America… right?”

Harold looked up at him with a smile, “I guess you could look at it that way…” He took a sip of Gatorade, “It’s more along the lines of a horrific side effect. The test went wrong on Bruce Banner … but it was successful when performed on Steve Rodgers.” Harold took a few deep breaths, hoping not to throw up.

They both turned their attention back to the movie for a short while,

“Wait… who’s Steve Rodgers?” John asked with a confused look.  
“Oh, my…” Harold huffed, “It’s Captain America, John… Good God… sometimes I wonder if you’re from another planet.”

John smiled and planted a soft kiss on Harold’s forehead, “You say the sweetest things.”


	19. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I guess you can't gift chapters... but let's pretend you can....  
> This one's for M_E_Lover for all the beta'ing, her friendship and putting up with my annoying self when I never think any of my fics are any good lol.  
> I tried to combine as much FinchWhump and fluffiness as I could! lol!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not beta'ed so I'm sorry for mistakes!

Harold clenched his eyes shut through the pain. He whispered the digits of Pi to himself, clasping and relaxing his hands with every number.

“How bad?” John asked, swerving in and out of traffic.

Harold only answered him by counting louder because his mind was not in the place to form a thought right now. It was in pain control mode. A mode that Harold knew all too well.

“Okay…” John breathed out, he tried to push the gas pedal to the floor but it was already there.

Harold got pushed up against a wall… well slammed would be a better word for it. John put a bullet in the guy’s chest before he could do anything else… but it still ended in Harold being in pain.

“We’re here.” John slammed the car in park and got out to help Harold out of the car, “Here… let me help…”

Harold glared at him but gave in as soon as he realized he would not be able to lift himself out of the car. The constant spasms coursing through his back and neck constantly almost made him cry out in pain. The only thing keeping him from having a breakdown was John’s calm presence.

Harold didn’t even notice John scooping him out of the car and start to carry him into the subway until they were halfway down the steps.

“M… mister… Reese…” Harold cried out, “I can… walk.”

“Like hell.” John took the older man over to the make-shift bedroom Root had made in the subway. He gently laid Finch down, “I’ll be right back.”

Harold started to breathe deeply in and out, still clenching and unclenching his fists with every breath.

John came back with a glass of water and three of Harold’s heavy duty painkillers, the ones John had only seen him take one other time. “Here…” He pried open Harold’s fingers and placed the pills in his palm. Once Harold had the pills in his mouth, John lifted the water to his mouth and slid his hand behind Harold’s neck, lifting his head up so he could drink.

“Th… thank you,” Harold whispered softly but it was interrupted by a small gasp as another knee buckling spasm ran its way through his back.

“I’ll go get the heated blanket,” John got up and Harold swore he hadn’t even blinked before he was already back and putting the blanket under his partner, “there.”

Harold let out a sigh at the sudden relief that was brought from it.

“Can I get you anything else?” John asked, feeling absolutely horrible. Harold wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Harold was supposed to be safe behind his computer telling John what to do. John was the one that deserved to get hurt. Deserved to be in Harold’s position on the bed.  

“Just… stay here…” Harold breathed out, “I have a feeling I’ll be… passing out fairly soon, though.”

John smirked, “don’t worry. I won’t go anywhere…” John fluffed his partner's pillows and pulled the covers up to his chest. 

“Good…” Harold hummed. “John?”

John leaned in, “Harold?” His voice was achingly soft. 

“Thank you…” He slurred, “for being here.”

John smiled and put his hand on Harold’s shoulder, “always.”


	20. Grocery Store Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Harold go shopping

Harold had the small shopping basket around his arm and was in the produce aisle. He was in the middle of considering which tomato looked the best when Reese came back from whatever he was doing and placed a bunch of items in the basket.

Harold looked down to the carrier and then back up to Reese, “Uhmm…”

“What?” John asked innocently with his international super spy smirk.

“I’m sorry to tell you but I am not eating nor buying these items.” Harold turned back to the produce and picked out the perfect tomato with a satisfied smile, “so you either take these back or go get your own basket.”

“Harold…” John huffed, “seriously…”

“Mister Reese,” Harold started, “Energy drinks and cheese puffs are horrendous for your health.”

“Harold… you employ me to jump in front of bullets for a living…” John let out an exasperated sigh, “and you’re worried about cheese puffs.”

Harold’s shoulders fell… “Good point… but only one drink, and a small bag of junk.”

“Fine…” John sighed and grabbed the remaining things out of the basket and took them back to their aisles.

John walked back over next to Harold and walked in stride with him throughout the rest of the store, “What do you think? Strawberry or Vanilla ice cream for the Library? Miss Shaw suggested that we get some.”

“Whichever,” John sighed and wandered around the aisle.

Harold huffed, “Is something wrong?” He asked, not turning his attention away from the ice cream freezer.

“Nope,” Reese replied. Finch decided on the ice cream and made his way towards the frozen foods section.

Reese followed and Harold noticed that he was walking particularly listlessly, “What is the matter, John?” Harold asked and tossed a bag of frozen peas into the cart.

“Nothing,” John replied and smiled at a woman and her kid in the same aisle.

Making their way through the aisles, Harold stopped to look at something and John sighed.

“John?” Harold asked irritably.

He just raised his eyebrows and his hands as if nothing were wrong. After three more long, exaggerated sighs from John… Harold gave in, “My God. Just go get your sugar loaded drinks and artery clogging cheese puffs.”

John smirked, “Thanks, Harold.” He kissed him on the cheek and happily went back to get his items that Harold had made him put back earlier.

“And a rolling cart! I can’t possibly carry all of this stuff.” Harold yelled and secretly grinned when John turned away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to M_E_Lover for the beta as usual!


	21. You Already Saved Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this one's not too fluffy... but I guess lol  
> I may add to it later, I just have a lot going on right now so I can't think of what to add to it.  
> Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from 4x18 'Skip'
> 
> Thanks to M_E_Lover for the beta as always!

John jumped out of the car before Fusco even put it in park. He almost took out a nurse carrying an armful of supplies as he rounded the corner and headed for the room number that Root had texted him.

That pissed him off even more. Root was the one with Harold when he was hurt. Not John. Not the one who made it his main purpose in life to protect Harold.

He saw the numbers on the door to one of the patient room’s and looked down at his phone one last time to make sure he had the right room.

Satisfied he was in the right place, he opened the door to see Root sitting in a chair… but no Harold.

“Where is he?” John asked with a look in his eyes that could burn holes through steel.

“Nice to see you too,” Root started, “He’s getting a CT scan.”

“Why? What happened?” John asked.

Before Root had a chance to answer, a nurse brought Harold in seated in a wheelchair. The silence in the room was deafening. The nurse made sure Harold was comfortable and let him know what was going to happen overnight since he would have to stay for the next twenty-four hours. Once she left, John looked at Root, “Fusco’s downstairs… go make sure he’s okay.”

Root stood up and went over to Harold, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She patted him on the shoulder.

Once the door was shut, John looked at his partner sitting in the bed, pale and exhausted, “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” He scoffed, “or should I just go ask Root?”

“John…” Harold started… he closed his eyes and let out a breath, “It’s just… you have a day job and there was always the chance that…” He looked around and started to whisper, “if Samaritan were to link us together…” He got quiet.

“I don’t give a damn Harold!” John raised his voice, “You could have died! You were minutes away! I know what neurotoxins can do Harold…” John trailed off and stared at his partner. He sat down in the chair next to Finch’s bed, closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, “I… are you okay?” He lifted his eyelids.

“Yes…” Harold grabbed John’s hand, “They believe that Miss Groves got me here in time…”

John huffed at the mention of Root.

“John…” Harold started, “Please. Look at me.” John raised his eye’s to meet Harold’s gaze, “I’m fine,” He whispered with a smile.

The warmness in Harold’s smile made something in John’s chest break. He let out a long shaky breath and squeezed Harold’s hand, “I swear if you ever…”

“I won’t,” Harold started and planted a soft kiss on John’s forehead, “I promise.”

John let his head fall down onto Harold’s hand and his eyes started to tear up. The reality of being minutes away from losing Harold started to set in.

“I don’t want to be alone again…” John sobbed quietly.

“John…” Harold said incredibly sadly and nudged him to pick his head up, “I’m fine. I won’t leave you.”

“Good, thank you…” John wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Why is this bothering you so badly?” Harold asked after a few more tears flowed down John’s cheeks.

“Because…” John cleared his throat, “my biggest fear is that there’s going to be a time where I won’t be there to save you. I won’t be able to jump in front of the bullet or knife… there will be nothing I can do and you’ll be gone…” John looked up at Harold with watery eyes and dried tear stains on his cheeks.

“Oh, John…” Harold murmured, “you’ve already saved me.” Harold put his hands on either side of John’s face and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.


	22. Don't Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comforts Harold :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week is finals week so this may be the only one I post for a while... but I'll always find time for Rinch fluffiness... don't worry! :) 
> 
> For the Prompt "Don't worry about me." From the '100 ways to say I love you list'!

Harold rolled over in bed and looked at the younger man next to him. He had a rather large bruise on his temple and a gnarly black eye.

He had gotten caught off guard by on one their numbers that turned out to be a perpetrator. One shot to the side of the head with an umbrella and John went down.

He got back up just in time to grab the guy’s knife and stop it from entering his chest, turning it back on the perp and driving it into his chest.

Harold got doctor Tillman to come over and check on John. She said he had a minor concussion, giving Harold orders to wake him up every hour if he fell asleep.

He nudged his partner, “John…” He whispered, “John, wake up…”

John grunted and groaned, cracking his eyes open half lidded, “what?”

“It’s been an hour…” Harold smirked at John’s bed head and his sleep laced voice.

John brought his hand to his temple and gently pressed on the bruise, wincing at the pain. Harold frowned. John noticed the man’s worried look,

“Don’t worry about me,” he rasped out with a smirk.

Harold put his arm around John and brought him close, “I do worry about you…” He sighed, “I worry about you every day. I worry that I’ve let myself get too close again and one day… I’ll be completely alone again.”

John rolled over to face his partner, “Finch…” Harold tucked his face into the crook of John’s neck, “you have nothing to worry about.”

Harold choked out a sob that sounded somewhat like John’s name. “Hey…” John put his finger under Harold’s chin and lifted his face to look him in the eyes, “you’re not hearing me, Harold…” John smiled, “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to stay here with you.”

Harold smiled, a tear snuck it's way down his cheek, “okay…”

John moved in and pressed their lips together, “Always.”


	23. All Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Prompt "Can I kiss you?"

Harold had been awake for about an hour now. At least that’s what he had guessed it’d been.

He didn’t want to wake John… so he just stayed where he was. They didn’t have a new number, so he didn’t have anywhere to be necessarily.

He had opened the bedroom blinds earlier when he came back from the bathroom. He always enjoyed watching the morning sunrise.

After a few minutes of staring aimlessly out the window, enjoying the sun starting to leak into the bedroom and the warm kiss it left on his face, he could swear it felt like John was watching him.

He rolled over to see that those ocean blue irises were, in fact, staring right at him. John just smirked innocently.

Harold huffed and smiled, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Can I kiss you?” John asked sheepishly.

Harold laughed and nodded his head. John leaned in and gently pressed their lips together. Harold pulled back, “Why did you think you’d have to ask?”

The side of John’s mouth quirked up, “Because my father always told me that it was good manners if I wanted something, I had to ask nicely.”

Harold rolled his eyes, “Is this your way of saying you want me?” He laughed and John started to laugh too, moving closer to his partner, and pressing kisses into his neck.

“I want every… single… part of you…” John made his way down Harold’s chest. He mouthed over Harold’s rising manhood through his boxers, “especially this.”

“Oh…” Harold huffed, his cheeks turning red, “well by all means…” Harold’s eyes fluttered shut, “proceed.”


	24. You Should Wear This More Often

Harold was sitting on the couch in John’s loft, waiting for him to get ready. He had arrived about an hour ago with John’s tuxedo. They were attending a gala to keep an eye on one of their newest numbers.

“John, if you take any longer we’re going to be late…” Harold stood up and made his way over to the bedroom door where John was, “Is everything all right in there?” He pushed open the door slightly to peek inside.

John turned around and Harold’s mouth went dry. He looked stunning. The dark blue suit, complemented by a light gray dress shirt and a midnight blue tie; it was enough to make Harold want to forget about the gala and push him down onto the bed right that moment.

John frowned, fussing with his tie, “You know I don’t like wearing ties, Harold… it can…”

“Yes, I know, it can double as a weapon against you and someone can choke you out in mere seconds,” Harold cut him off, “I’ve heard it a million times.”

John smiled at his shorter partner, “So you _have_ been listening.”

Harold just rolled his eyes, “Are you ready to go?”

“Only if I can take this off….” John smiled innocently.

Harold let out an exasperated breath, “If you take it off, it will ruin your whole ensemble…” He continued, “and the gala is suit and tie required…”

John let out a breath, “fine…” and started to make his way out of the room.

“Uhmmm… you don’t plan to leave your tie like that… do you?” Harold looked absolutely offended. After an ‘are you serious' look, John made his way back over to his partner who started to fuss with his tie, once he was finished he smiled and stepped back, “there. Perfect.”

John wrapped his arms around the smaller man and brought him in closer, “what do you say we send Fusco and Shaw to this thing instead?” He pecked a kiss to his partner’s forehead, “because I’ve got about a hundred things I want to do to you and that bow-tie and none of them involve snobby rich people and terrible finger foods.”

“While that does sound like an intriguing idea…” Harold started with a smile. He looked John up and down one more time, “oh what the hell…” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and called Shaw to explain to her what they needed to do.

Once he hung up, Reese tossed his phone onto the dresser and nudged him down onto the bed. Harold’s hands fisted into the lapels of John’s jacket. He lifted his head up, “You need to start wearing this type of suit more often… I can promise you that we would stay a lot safer if you did.” He brought John closer and took the first of many kisses to come.


	25. Can't Lose You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's set after If-then-else.

  
Harold came in through the door with his briefcase in hand. He had tried to call John and ask him if he wanted to go out to dinner… but he got no answer.

When he made his way into the apartment, he noticed that John was nowhere to be found. “John?” He called out.

“In here…” He heard John’s strained voice coming from their bedroom.

He dropped his briefcase and threw his coat over a chair in the kitchen. When he opened the bedroom door he saw John sitting on the floor beside the bed, with his gun in his hand and Harold could have sworn he was shaking.

“John…?” He asked cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

The side of John’s mouth quirked up and his head fell to hit the side of the bed, “car backfired…” He let out a breath.

Harold frowned, “oh…” He moved over next to John slowly. He’d seen him have nightmares before… but nothing like this.

He managed to sit down and propped his leg up, “do you… are you…” Harold stumbled over the words. The sweat dripping down John’s face and his shakes were not the most comforting thing to see from the hardened ex-op.

“I’m fine… just…” John closed his eyes, “need a second.”

“Okay,” Harold replied. He sat there for a little while, looking straight ahead trying not to make John more uncomfortable than he already had. He let John build back up whatever defenses he felt he needed to.

They sat there in silence for a while; Harold looked at John who still had a look like he had seen a ghost on his face. He wrapped his arm around the younger man’s shoulders.

John leaned into the embrace. Harold pulled him in closer and ran his hands through his hair, folded him up into his arms, murmured soothingly to him until John was weeping in his arms.

Finch didn’t pry and didn’t prod him to talk. He gently caressed the back of John's neck, rubbed his back, held him tight as the younger man trembled.

John had his head pillowed on Harold’s chest, and Harold counted the minutes it took for John’s breathing to slow down. Harold squeezed John tighter for a moment, an unspoken invitation.

John’s breath was warm against Harold’s skin, and Harold put his free hand under John’s chin and turned it up so he can press a kiss against John’s lips.

“I heard a bang… you were supposed to be coming home around that time… and my mind just took off from there.” He looked extremely tired his eyes were bloodshot, his skin was pale and he had stubble on his chin. “After everything that happened with Shaw…” Reese trailed off and Harold frowned.

“John…”

“I can’t lose anyone else, Harold… I can’t lose you."

Harold took both sides of John’s face in his hands tenderly, “I’m right here,” he smiled, “I’m not going anywhere…” He kissed the ex-op again, “I’ll always be here.”

John looked up at him and smiled, “always.”


	26. How You Live

John belly flopped onto the bed next to his partner.

“Must you do that?” Harold asked, putting his book down onto the bedside table.

“You love it and you know it…” Reese chuckled, leaned over and pressed his lips to the older man’s. Harold grimaced when he stretched his neck too far. “Sorry…” John frowned, “you okay?”

“Yes…” Harold took a deep breath and smiled, “now, where were we?” He leaned in and kissed John.

#

Harold lay curled up against John’s side. They were both coming down from the ecstasy of late night sex. Harold had his hand placed on John’s chest. His palm over his heart. He always felt comforted when he could feel it beating… feel the blood coursing through John’s veins.

John grabbed Harold’s hand and brought it to his lips, “Harold…” He started, “have you ever thought about… you know… seeing if they can fix your neck or back?”

Harold propped himself up on his elbow and looked to John with his brows raised.

“I mean you’re in pain all the time… I’m sure they’ve come up with something that can help by now…” John smiled sadly, “I just hate seeing you in pain.”

Harold looked like he didn’t know what to say… and then let out a breath. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it… but… the thoughts are often fleeting.”

John just gave him a questioned look.

“After the ferry bombing… I felt guilty… it was my fault that all those people died and were injured… it was my fault that Nathan died…” Harold sighed, “I felt like if those people have to suffer… have to deal with the aftermath of the bombing… that I do too.”

John frowned and ran his hand through Harold’s soft bristly hair, “Finch…”

“Scars have a way of reminding you that your past is real…” Harold started… “so does pain.”

John frowned, “Harold if anyone understands how you’re feeling… it’s me. But the way to honor those people…” He smiled, “honor Nathan… it’s not living in pain… it’s taking the second chance you were given and living your life to the fullest.”

Harold smiled and pulled his partner to him and kissed him open-mouthed; he pulled back, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” John chuckled and sighed into Harold’s mouth. “Now tomorrow, how about we look into it?” John added.

“Maybe tomorrow John.” Harold pulled John’s lips back to press to his once again. “Now go to sleep,” he teased.

John snuggled in close, “tomorrow Harold… I’ll remind you.” 

Soon after, they both fell into a sated slumber intertwined with each other. 


	27. Put Me Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after season 2 finale when Finch tells Reese about how he changed things for him by selling the laptop and building the machine.

John was lying next to Harold, propped up on an elbow. He was watching the rise and fall of his partner’s chest.

The only thing that relaxes John is knowing that Harold is breathing. Knowing that the only heart that has ever loved him for who he was… is still beating.

Nothing has ever made John feel like this before. Feel like he was whole again. Like there were little pieces of him missing and Harold put them back together.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Harold’s forehead.

Harold stirred, “yes, John?” He asked with a grin on his face.

“I love you…” John nestled his face into the crook of Harold’s neck and planted a wet kiss. "I will always love you.” He ran his fingers through Harold’s hair, “no matter what.”

Harold opened his eyes and looked at John with a smile, “I love you too…” He kissed his partner on the lips, “but what brought this on?”

“I can’t just say I love you?” John asked innocently and planted another kiss on his partner’s lips.

“Well… no… but it’s…” Harold rolled over and looked at the alarm clock, “three in the morning... you should be sleeping because the last thing I want is for you to be tired in the field…” Harold smirked.

“It's just… yesterday… when you said that things you set in motion… changed things for me…”

Harold frowned, “John…”

“No just listen,” John smiled, “I don’t think I got my point across with my reply… you didn’t break me, Harold… you’re the one who put me back together…” John smiled.

Harold smiled as well and for a moment, it seemed like the world stopped. Finally, Harold pulled John on top of him, “I think it’s the other way around, John… you’re the one who pieced me back together… I feel complete when I'm with you...” He ran his fingers through his partner’s hair, “and feel free to say ‘I love you’ anytime you’d like…” 


	28. Dessert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the amazing M_E_Lover as always for the beta and encouragement!

John came in through the door to see Harold sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. John had to work a graveyard shift last night at the precinct.

Harold was sipping his morning tea and John could tell that something was in the oven.

“Morning,” Harold smiled to his partner who sat his keys down on the counter.

John made his way over to the kitchen table and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Harold’s head, “Morning, how did you sleep?”

“Not particularly well. I’m afraid I’ve gotten so used to you being next to me; I have a rather tough time falling asleep when you’re not there.” Harold got up at the sound of the timer for whatever was in the oven.

John frowned, “Sorry… next time I’ll call in sick or something.” He removed his jacket and set his wallet, gun, and phone down onto the table.

He turned around just in time to see Harold taking a pie out of the oven.

“Surprise…” Harold smirked at the look on John’s face. “When I couldn’t sleep… I decided I’d make a pie for you to come home to.”

John’s heart felt like it may explode at the adorableness of Harold setting a pie down onto the counter, in his robe and slippers.

He was on his partner like a viper; he had him pinned to the counter before Harold could even move. “My… my… this is mighty domestic of you Mr. Finch…” He nibbled a spot on Harold’s neck.

“Oh…” Harold groaned.

John grabbed the whipped cream from the counter and sprayed a dollop onto Harold’s nose. He kissed it off, “Mmmmm,” he whispered. He sprayed another spot onto the part of Harold’s neck that drives him crazy, licking it off and not leaving a spot to be found.

“If you keep this up…” Harold paused and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, “I’ll have to cancel my morning class…”

John picked Harold up and set him on the counter, “I think Professor Whistler is going to be sick today…” He kissed Harold opened mouthed as he moved closer to him in between his legs.

“He does have a few sick days saved up…” Harold murmured into John’s ear alluringly.

“Bedroom?” John whispered and started to unbutton his own shirt.

“Absolutely…” Harold chuckled as he allowed himself to be picked up by John and led into their bedroom.

“Wait!" Harold exclaimed.

“What is it, Harold?” John asked, concerned.

 Harold grinned mischievously, “We forgot the whipped cream.”


	29. Their Bench

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff to lighten the mood after I just posted the death fic.

John followed the steps of the last two clues carefully.

Harold was gone when he woke up in the morning and he left John a note on the table saying,

‘Good Morning. Today’s a special day, decipher the following clues and you’ll remember why.’

But John already knew why. Today was the 4-year anniversary of the day they met. When Harold pulled John out of that police precinct, cleaned him up, gave him a job… a purpose… and saved his life.

How could he forget it?

He followed all of Harold’s clues… a few of which turned out to be pretty hard to figure out. Leave it to Harold to stump an ex-CIA agent with a few rhymes and riddles.

Finally, on the last clue. One of which he received from Shaw tossing it in his face once he finally figured out, ‘find the woman dressed in all black. Scowls more than not, she is the ticket to the final plot.’

She was sitting in the diner that he and Harold frequented, eating a pile of scrambled eggs and once she noticed John, she rolled her eyes, scoffed, and set down her fork to grab the card.

When she tossed it at John, she set a $20 bill down on the table and brushed against his shoulder as she got up to leave, “Next time Finch wants me to do this, make sure you hurry your love-struck ass up.”

“The green bench marks the spot,” John whispered to himself once he opened the card. He laughed to himself… of course, Harold made the last one the easiest.

He made his way out of the diner and to the spot that they met. The Queens Borough Bridge.

\---

Once the taxi pulled up to the park, John paid him and got out of the car. The park was well lit during the night and he followed the one path that led to his partner.

Harold was sitting there with his back towards him, on the green park bench.

 _Their_ park bench.

Harold turned around and smiled to his partner, who was carrying all the gifts that Harold had scattered throughout the city at the different places he had John visit to get the next clue.

“You really know how to make a guy work…” John chuckled and leaned down to kiss his partner’s lips.

“Yes, well… did you have fun?” Harold beamed.

“Yes… it was great, Harold…” John kissed him again.

Harold grabbed John by the hand and tugged him towards the bench. They both sat down; John placed all his gifts on the ground beside them.

Harold cozied himself close to John. John possessively tossed an arm around the older man and pulled him in even closer. “Thank you for today. It was perfect.”

“You deserve the best,” Harold pecked a kiss to John’s cheek, “don’t ever forget that.”

John chuckled, “Although your note this morning implied that I didn’t already know what today was… Today was the day that you saved my life…” John whispered, and then looked into his partner’s ocean blue eyes. “Don’t _you_ ever forget _that_.”

Harold’s lips were on his partner’s with urgency. His hands ran up and down John’s strong powerful arms and then moved up and ran through his gelled salt and pepper locks, “I set us up a nice spot over there under the bridge by the water…” Harold panted between kisses, “completely out of sight…” He grinned mischievously.

John groaned and rutted against his romantic partner excitedly, “Let’s go.”

\---

Harold lay his head on John’s bare chest. He had basically memorized each and every scar that laid upon his partner’s torso by now… but they never got easier to look at. So, he concentrated on looking up at the sky.

They were covered up by one of the fleece blankets that Harold had brought. The sound of the water running next to them was soothing.

John ran his fingers softly up and down Harold’s naked back. Rubbing comforting circles around his shoulder blades.

John grabbed Harold’s hand and brought it up to kiss his knuckles, “I love you.”

Harold sighed contentedly, “I love you too.” He breathed in the serenity and coziness produced by the body next to him… the safety. The happiness.

He closed his eyes and nuzzled in closer to the warm inviting bare chest of his partner. Listening to his heart beat under his toned flesh.

He fell asleep accepting the fact that he was perfectly fine with being the reason that, that heart was still beating.

Because that heart was the reason he was still breathing and all he ever needed to go on.


	30. Ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John loves Harold's vocabulary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to M_E_Lover for the great idea! 
> 
> Also comments and feedback are my purpose ;)

“Say it again…” John murmured, trailing soft kisses down Harold’s neck. Harold was propped against his infinite supply of pillows. He really didn’t need them all… but John always insisted.

“Acquiesce…” Harold pronounced slowly. His face red and starting to get hot as John made his way further south on his body.

“Mmmmmm…” John groaned and nudged his hips against his partner’s. “And…”

“Afflatus,” Harold whispered, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as John ran lazy circles over Harold’s chest with his tongue. John’s mouth was _so good_ , “Allure…” Harold continued whispering words from his library sized vocabulary.

John shivered in pleasure when Harold ran his fingers through his hair where it’s soft and short at the nape of his neck.

He groaned against Harold’s stomach. Moving inch by inch down towards Harold’s member. Harold gripped John’s hair hard to pull him back up to kiss him, and John moaned desperately.

“Clinquant…” He _feels_ John shiver.

Harold started to moan out every word that came to his mind from ‘Quintessence’ to ‘Jacqueminot’.

John finally mouthed over Harold’s straining manhood through his boxers and dug his fingers into the fabric to pull down the midnight blue briefs. “Euphoria…” Harold sighed out as John’s warm mouth finally surrounded him.

Harold was rendered speechless for a long moment as John brought him to the edge and over until he was trembling with pleasure; he pulled John up and held him tightly to him. “Ecstasy…” he finally whispered into John’s ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently taking suggestions for this one. So if you have a fluffy idea, let me know in the comments!


	31. Cookie Dough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this one a few days ago and just haven't posted it. So here you go lol   
> Also this is me posting two in one day because Rinch fluffiness is the best.

Harold mixed the dough in the bowl. These everyday activities still made him feel increasingly… domestic.

Ever since he moved in with John, they shared the occasional moment like this. No numbers, no people to save… just him and his partner.

“John!” He slapped the younger man’s hands away. “You can’t eat the cookie dough! It has raw egg in it.” He put his back to his partner.

“Harold… honestly, has anyone ever gotten sick from eating it or are people just trying to stop me from living my life?” John scoffed.

Harold just rolled his eyes and made his way over to the oven to check on the first batch of cookies he had in the oven.

He made the mistake of setting the bowl down on the counter and when he turned around, he saw John licking the spoon that Harold was mixing the cookie dough with.

He looked up to his partner with a look so innocent that Harold couldn’t be mad. He tried and he tried hard to look mad at the younger, impossible man, but it just ended with John covering him with soft kisses and Harold giving in to him.

He pinched John’s cheek, “don’t expect me to rub your back when you’re throwing up later tonight…”

“Yeah, yeah… it’s all an old wives’ tale, Harold…” John chastised and plopped down on the couch.

\--

Later that night, John poured himself back into bed with a groan. It was his third trip to the bathroom in the past hour… “Okay… sorry… you were…” John put his hand to his mouth… “Right…” He got up and ran into the bathroom again.

Harold sighed, put down his book and got out of bed. He made his way into the bathroom to rub his partner’s back while he was hunched over the toilet, hurling.

Because, after all, he _did_ say he was sorry.


	32. Papa Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying something different with this one! It's set in an alternate universe where they retire from the numbers and adopt two kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For TalkingtotheSky! 
> 
> Prompt: "They adopt two/three kids/teenagers and are actual dads together."

John stood up in the stands, “Hey ump! You’re missing a great game!”

Harold grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down to the bleachers, “Sit down! You’re embarrassing Matt!”

John huffed and rolled his eyes, “Well I’m sorry but that last pitch was a strike.” He picked up his soda and took a drink, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bag Harold was holding as well.

“Dad, do you always have to be embarrassing?” The smaller girl sitting in between them asked.

“Yes, I do. I’m your dad. It’s my job,” John replied amidst tossing the handful of popcorn into his mouth.

\---

“Great game!” Harold smiled to his son and handed him a blue popsicle.

“Thanks,” Matt smiled and opened the blue sugary treat to eat, “Where’s dad?” He asked, looking around for John.

“Oh, he’s over there talking to Mrs. James. Trying to get out of working the concession stand I assume…” Harold laughed and took the younger boy’s baseball bag and threw it over his shoulder.

John came running back over to them, “Hey big guy!” He picked up the eight-year-old and put him on his shoulders, “Great game… but we _are_ going to work on your swing when we get home.”

“After Sarah’s ballet recital that is…” Harold interrupted with a smirk as he watched their daughter twirl around in front of them.

Matt’s mouth fell and he groaned, “do we _have_ to go?”

John laughed, “yes we do. Your sister came to your game so now you have to go to her recital.” John put the boy down and whispered into his ear, “We can stream the Met’s game on my phone… we’ll just make sure we sit in the back…” He winked to his son and then looked up innocently to Harold.

“Our seats are in the front row,” Harold replied with his brow raised. “And I _will_ be confiscating your phone before we go in.”

Matt and Sarah spotted an ice cream truck in the distance and ran ahead of their parents.

“You’ve created a monster…” Harold chuckled, nudging closer to his partner.

“Says the dad who taught Sarah how to encrypt a text file when she was nine…” John laughed, throwing his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and pulling him in close.

“God, that seems like such a long time ago…” Harold replied with a frown, “she’s going to be in 7th grade this year…” Harold noticed that Sarah had met up with the boy she had been particularly fond of over the past couple months.

He looked up to John whose eyes went wide and his brow furrowed, “who’s that boy?” John asked protectively.

“Oh, I believe that’s Jason… He’s got a crush on Sarah.” Harold replied and he _felt_ John tense. “Oh, relax papa bear…” Harold pinched John’s back playfully, “The machine seems to think he’s a nice boy…”

John looked to the older man, “I need to have a talk with this kid.”


	33. Endearments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Talkingtothesky !
> 
> Prompt: John coming up with ridiculous endearments for Harold

Harold emptied the last of the off-shore accounts and put all the money into various charities for pediatric cancer patients and their families.

“Everything’s wrapped up here Finch…” John’s voice came through the comm.

“Very good… everything here appears to be finished as well.” Harold replied, scooting his computer chair back from his station and making his way to get a cup of tea.

“I’ll see you back at the apartment in twenty… sweetums.” John replied and disconnected the line.

Harold stopped in his tracks. He looked to Bear with his brows raised, “sweetums? We’ll have to check him for a blow to the head when he gets back.” Harold rolled his eyes and made his cup of tea to go and headed back home with Bear.

\---

John made it to the apartment to see Harold waiting for him at the breakfast bar in their kitchen. “Harold?” He asked, confused.

“Oh, it’s not… what was it?” Harold put his hand to his chin... the classic thinker pose, “sweetums?”

John grinned, “you don’t like that one, eh?” He kissed his partner on the lips, “how about… pumpkin?”

Harold glared at him, “you can’t be serious…”

“Sweetheart? Maybe babe… or… how about bae? That one seems popular with the kids nowadays.” 

Harold punched him in the arm, _hard._ “How about… oh, I’m going out on a limb here… Harold?”

“Okay… gosh…” John rubbed his arm, “But does this rule out endearments during sex?” He smirked and pulled Harold close to him.

“I suppose…” Harold breathed out between kisses, “that could be the one exception.”


	34. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Laukie, 
> 
> Prompt: Insomniac John, Harold helping him to sleep by reading to him

Harold was lying in bed with his feet straight out in front of him and crossed over each other.

John was curled around him, his head nuzzled in next to Harold’s shoulder, laying on a pillow.

“… _grew and withered in their destined terms: and all upon the fierce and bloody battle-ground, where thousands upon thousands had been killed in the great fight_ …” Harold read aloud from his first edition of _The Battle of Life_ by Charles Dickens.

John couldn’t sleep. So naturally, Harold grabbed a book and snuggled up with him to try to help him fall asleep. He always seemed to zonk right out whenever Harold read to him. There was something about his gentle reading voice that relaxed the ex-op.

Harold was softly tracing lazy zig-zags over John’s back with his fingertips. He’d occasionally run his hands up through his soft salt and pepper locks.

“… _the seasons in their course, however, though they passed as lightly as the summer clouds themselves, obliterated, in the lapse of time_ …”

Harold felt John nuzzle in closer to him. He looked down and smirked at the younger man. He could tell he was finally asleep by the way his breathing had shallowed out and the relaxed expression he had on his face.

He closed the book and gently shifted so that John would be more comfortable and then scooted closer to him under the covers.

He remembered the first time John fell asleep with him… the first time he let his guard down and trusted Harold enough to take that step.

He propped himself up on an elbow and pressed a soft kiss to John’s cheek. John stirred, “Harold?” He hummed softly with a smile.

“I’m here…” Harold murmured back and pressed another kiss to John’s temple, “go back to sleep…” Harold whispered, putting his arms around John and holding him.

John hummed in acknowledgment and they both drifted off into a slumber with Bear snoring at their feet. 


	35. Walked Into Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do I feel myself constantly trying to fix season 4?

Harold was sitting at the computer station in the subway. The days all blurred together now that he was Professor Whistler… The poor college professor with a service dog.

He hadn’t seen John in a few days. They had made a dinner date for tonight… but Harold never knew when John was going to cancel on him.

Being Detective Riley could come with a lot of hoops to jump through…

Harold sighed and ran his hand over his face in exhaustion. Bear, who was sitting beside him, whined and put his head down to lie on his foot. “Time for your walk boy?” The side of Harold’s mouth quirked up and he got up to grab the dog’s leash.

\---

**‘Late night snack?’** Harold read the text from John. Then his phone buzzed again, **‘My place. I ordered pizza.’**

He thought about telling John that he was busy… save the heartache that he would have when he had to leave again and they were forced to live this lie that they now called lives. But he hadn’t seen John in _days_ … he _missed_ him.

**‘I’ll be there in ten.’** Harold texted back without even thinking another second about it. He grabbed his coat and hat and made his way out the door.

\---

Harold hesitantly knocked on the door and when he heard John yell for him to come in, he put his hand to the doorknob, took a deep breath and entered the apartment.

John smiled at his partner from the refrigerator. He got out two bottles of beer and set them on the table. “How was your day?” John asked, cracking open one of the bottles for himself.

Harold internally cringed, is this what they had been reduced to now? ‘ _How was your day?_ ’

“Oh… it was all right…” Harold replied. He removed his coat and hat, setting them onto the coat rack by the door. “Listen, John…” He started, “I can’t help but feel like things have… changed between us… that they have been reduced to… well, _this.”_ He motioned in front of himself at the pizza and beer.

John just looked at him, clearly confused.

“I understand that this is a difficult situation we’re in… but… well, I’ll just say it…” He prepared himself for what he was about to say… “John… do you still… want to do this? Do you still…” Harold huffed, “want me?”

John’s mouth screwed tight and his brows raised. Without saying anything, he moved towards Harold and grabbed him by the arms. He pressed their lips together in urgency… Harold’s mouth parted, kissing him back with a fierce and passionate response.

John ran his fingers through Harold's hair and cupped his cheek. He pulled away with a smirk, “does that answer your question?”

Harold let out a sigh of relief… his forehead fell to John’s chest and rested there for a moment.

John put his hands on either side of the smaller man’s face and looked into his eyes, “I didn't fall in love with you, Harold... I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we would have chosen regardless anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you for eternity.”

Harold put his hand around the back of John’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. He had one hand fisted in the short hair at the crown of John’s head, the other, squeezing desperately at his shoulder.  

They broke the kiss one more time, “no matter what we’re forced to do… who we’re forced to be… I’ll always love you, Harold…”

Harold smiled up at his handsome partner, “I feel the same, John. Thank you for reminding me that it isn’t who we have to be at the start of the day, it’s who we are at the end… when it’s just you and me together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "“I didn't fall in love with you, Harold... I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we would have chosen regardless anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you for eternity.”
> 
> Quote by Kiersten White.  
> The Chaos of Stars


	36. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR SEASON 5 FINALE  
> Cute little fix-it for the finale!

_“But then I realized… sometimes one life… if it’s the right life… it’s enough…” John replied to Harold’s pleas to get off the building and save his life. “Goodbye, Harold…”_

_“No!” Harold gasped. His breath suddenly coming short… The fact that John was going to die for him hit him abruptly._

“No!” Harold screamed and gasped in his sleep. He tossed and turned… an elbow flailed and found its way to John’s chest.

“Harold…” John tried to wake him up, “Harold! Hey, it’s me…” He gently took his partner by the shoulders and tried to get his attention. Finally, Harold gasped, suddenly awake, his eyes blinking and looking around the room in confusion.

His eyes finally landed upon John and he seemed to relax a fraction. “Hey…” John’s trademark smirk made something in his chest ache. “Bad dream?”

Harold just put his hands on his partner’s face… put his palm to his chest… making sure that John’s heart was beating and he was actually here. That the horror of him getting gunned down on a rooftop was just a nightmare. A cruel, cruel dream. He closed his eyes and tried to stifle the panic. _Breathe,_ _in, one, two, three. Out, one, two three._

“You… you died… you sacrificed yourself for me… and the world…” Harold stammered and sat up and scooted to the edge of their bed suddenly feeling sick.

John sat up as well and turned on their bedside lamp, “It was just a dream, Harold…” He wrapped his arms around the older man. He was still shaking. Trembling even at the thought of losing John. “I’m here…” He tucked his face into the crook of Harold’s neck.

“Samaritan…” Harold choked out a sob. “We defeated them… but I lost you…” He was sobbing now. “It felt so… _real_ …” Harold emphasized the last word.

“Hey… hey…” John got off the bed and knelt down in front of the older sobbing man, “I’m not going anywhere… besides… we already got rid of Samaritan… your virus crippled it and then the machine kicked its ass… remember?”

John counts the seconds it takes for Harold to calm down. He sat there with him, his hand a comforting weight on his knee. Giving him enough time and space to recover.

Harold took a deep, experimental breath, and let it out. His chest loosened just a little.

“I think…” Harold started… “I think I’m all right.”

John stood up and took his hand, lead him back to lie down in bed. He got in next to him and shifted under the comforter closer to his partner.

They laid face to face for a while, neither of them saying anything. Harold’s hand slid gently down John's neck, thumb skating over his collarbone, his sternum.

“How many guys?” John asks, his face remained stoic.

“Six…” Harold started, “you took out three of them… but the last three…” He trailed off.

He wasn’t looking at John… but he swore that the fact that his chest was shaking meant he was… laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Harold asked, a little offended.

“Six guys, Harold?” He pulled the older man close, “come on… I’ve taken out eight with nothing but my knife…”

Harold couldn’t help but laugh… John was right… the whole dream was a bit… unrealistic… 


	37. Ticklish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I told Elbowsinthedoor, my sweetness dial is constantly out of control with these two.

Harold woke up to John's arms wrapped around him, pleasant heat all along his back. John's legs are intertwined with his.

Harold really needed to get up and get a shower. He glanced at the clock noticing that Professor Whistler’s first class started in an hour and a half… he’d never make it in time.

John and his mind reading abilities knew exactly what Harold was thinking, “Call in sick.” He nuzzled against the back of Harold’s neck. He ran his fingers softly down Harold’s side, getting closer and closer to that one spot on Harold’s stomach that was _ticklish._

Harold let out an annoyed yet amused puff of air, turned around and simply rested the palms of his hands flat on either side of Reese’s broad shoulders. “I need to shower…” Harold kissed John’s forehead.

John squeezed Harold a bit tighter. The smaller man simply let his lips quirk up, and moved to thread his fingers through graying curls; he gently tilted Johns chin up so he could give him a proper kiss. John snuck his hands down and traced soft circles over his stomach. Harold flinched and moved away when John, knowingly, ran over his ticklish spot.

“Uh… oh…” John joked with his trademark smirk.

“If you do that again… I can’t promise you won’t end up with a black eye…” Harold murmured into his partner’s ear…

\--

Harold placed the ice pack gently over John’s cheek. John hissed at how cold it was, but gratefully took it from his partner and held it over the already swollen bruise. “Think I’m taking up the couch from now on…” John groaned.

“I gave you fair warning… besides, it was an accident…” Harold replied back, innocence in his voice. “You know what could happen when you insist on tickling me…”

“Yeah well… I didn’t think I’d be getting a flailing elbow to the face…” John huffed and made his way over to Harold, “where’s my kiss to make it all better?”

Harold rolled his eyes and huffed, pressing a gentle kiss to John’s injured cheek, “there. Now please… how about we keep the tickle monster in his cage… hmm?”

John dropped the ice pack and pinned his partner against the counter, “I guess…” He replied, defeated, as he trailed soft kisses down Harold’s neck.  


	38. Papa Bear part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seemed like a lot of people liked the first one in this AU, so here's a sequel.
> 
> The idea sprang off of kiranovember's suggestion, "Have Sarah invite him over, and let him see you cleaning your guns. Especially the big ones."
> 
> P.S Comments give me life :D

John sat at the kitchen table cleaning his AR-15. They had relocated to the suburbs after the showdown with Samaritan. John had debilitating injuries, forcing him to retire from the numbers. Naturally, Harold whisked him away to a new life.

Shaw and the rest of the gang still checked in from time to time. Lionel and John had the occasional weekend of taking Lee and Matt to a Met’s, Rangers, or Giants game.

The kids loved their ‘Auntie Sameen,’ who supplied them with all the candy and video games and slingshots and BB guns that they would ever need. 

Harold walked into the room, “John!” He hissed, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He replied without taking his attention off the large automatic rifle he was meticulously cleaning.

Harold rolled his eyes and folded his arms, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Sarah’s… friend… is coming over, would it?”

“She has a friend coming over?” John asked innocently. “News to me…”

Harold rolled his eyes again.

“You keep rolling your eyes Harold and they’re going to get stuck like that,” John chuckled as he wiped down the barrel of the gun.

Harold heard the doorbell ring; he started to make his way out of the kitchen, “Play nice or no sex for a week.” He slapped John’s arm and glared at his partner.

John huffed in defeat and went back to cleaning his weapon.

“Hello, Jason,” Harold smiled to the younger boy. “Sarah’s up in her room, just go right through the kitchen and up the stairs.”

John smirked to himself and picked up the rifle to look through the scope. The younger boy stopped cold in his tracks when he saw John at the table. John held back his grin once he saw the kid swallow hard and his eyes go wide.  
“Oh hi, you must be Jason…” John got up to shake the kid’s hand.

“Hi… Mister Reese…” Jason stammered as he took John’s outstretched hand. John smiled to him and moved out of the way to let the boy up the stairs.

John watched him right up until the moment he went into Sarah’s room, “Door stays open!” He yelled up the stairs, which brought out an annoyed sigh and eye roll from his daughter.

Harold was standing by the table, watching everything with a smirk on his face, “You do know that we have an all-seeing artificial intelligence that can notify us the second that anything could happen…” He teased John.

“These kids have the machine wrapped around their finger,” John replied.

Harold walked over to him and put his hand to the taller man’s cheek, stroked it lovingly with his thumb, “She’s a smart girl, John.” He stood on his toes to kiss the younger man.  “Considering she can take down any boy twice her size and can shoot almost as good as her father…” He chuckled, “I think she’ll be fine.”

John chuckled as well, “I guess you have a point… plus I told Matt I’d give him five bucks if he kept an eye on them.” John sat back down and resumed cleaning his gun and putting it back together and then he paused, “Wait… you were joking about that no sex thing… right?” John spluttered.

Harold grinned wickedly, “I don’t know, was I?”


	39. Movie Night

John coughed and sneezed as he tried to get up. His head spun and pitched until he fell back to bed. He groaned, threw his hands to his forehead, and sneezed again.

Harold came into the bedroom, “I wondered why you hadn’t woken up yet…” He sat on the edge of the bed and placed the back on his hand to John’s forehead. “Ahhh, yes, you’re burning up.”

John groaned and buried his face in the pillow. Harold pressed a chaste kiss to the sick man’s temple, “I’ll bring you some soup.”

“Chicken noodle?” John murmured into his pillow expectantly.

Harold huffed. The man was an ex-government operative who could kill a man with his bare hands… but when he was sick… the biggest baby to walk the earth.

“Whatever you want,” Harold smiled to his partner. The image of John snuggled up with their comforter and his face buried in the pillow somehow made his heart ache with fondness.

Harold came back with some cold medicine, orange juice and a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. He helped John sit up, propped up some pillows behind him and set the TV tray with the food on his lap.

“Need anything else?” Harold asked, placing the backside of his hand to John’s forehead again, feeling for his fever.

“A movie night would be nice,” John smirked.

“I have work to do…” Harold replied sadly.

John gave him his puppy dog eyes. The eyes that Harold could never resist. The eyes that had gotten him into bed _many_ times.

“Fine…” Harold relented, “But I get to pick the movies.”

\---

Three movies later and they were finally on one that John could watch without having to read the subtitles.

But he didn’t mind… he always loved watching Harold’s interest in his favorite movies. He also loved it when Harold would explain things to him, most of the time John would just smile and nod, completely lost.

But Harold always got so excited, so John would always act interested.

Because sitting here, wrapped in Harold’s warm embrace, watching movies… was all John would ever need and more.

“How did this one get in here?” Harold asked, looking at the movie case that read ‘Lethal Weapon’.

“It’s a classic, Finch…” John whined, his voice nasally and raspy. He sipped on the third glass of orange juice that Finch had brought him.

John was so adorable and well… how was Harold supposed to say no to that?


	40. Retirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm ending this one for now! Not saying that I won't come back to it, but this is the last one in this series... for now.  
> Thank you all for all the wonderful comments and feedback and going along for the journey, it's greatly appreciated!

Harold rolled over in bed, facing his partner. The sun was starting to melt into their room and it was almost time to get up and start the day.

John’s face had aged a few years… a few more wrinkles and a tad bit more salt was mixed in with his peppered hair… but still the man he, against all odds, fell in love with.

Harold himself had the friendly reminders of father time as well. His neck and back ached a little bit more each day and his hair also gained a few more silver speckles through the years.

The numbers eventually _did_ stop coming. They handed them over to the army of irrelevants that the machine had assembled for such a time as this.

Retirement was treating them well… afternoons were spent walking Bear, reading, taking long walks through Central Park, and Harold’s favorite… lazy days on the couch watching movies.

The first couple of weeks were… difficult. For two men who were used to saving the world… they had a rather tough time adjusting to the retired life.

John shook Harold from his thoughts when he possessively tossed an arm around Harold’s waist and tugged him closer. He murmured something incoherent into his ear and nuzzled his face into the crook of Harold’s neck.

Harold smiled as the warmth of John’s body flowed over him like lava. He relaxed into his partner’s hold… because here in John’s arms… was the only place he would ever need to be anymore. ****


	41. Me Too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told you I wouldn't be able to stay away long...

John paced back and forth in the hallway. Muttering things under his breath.

Bear’s head followed him, side to side. Going from the door to the refrigerator and then back again.

Twenty-two steps. Eleven there and eleven back.

He kept his eye on a picture on the wall. A picture of a Blue bird. Sitting on a tree branch in the woods.

It looked out of place and wasn’t a good fit for this safehouse. But Harold had put it there, so John liked it.

He stared at it when he walked by it. Because for two point three seconds, he forgot about what was actually going on.

He forgot about Harold being in the room on the left. Bleeding and broken.

Because John had failed to clear a room.

He’d failed at his job and Harold had suffered.

 _He_ was the one who was supposed to get hurt, not Harold. Harold wasn’t supposed to bleed.

Harold was supposed to be safe. John _needed_ him to be safe.

The door opened and John’s heart stopped. “He lost a lot of blood…”

_No._

“… He was tachycardic and…”

A numbness slowly seeped through the pit of his stomach.

_Please. No._

Shaw put her hand on his arm. He jerked away. Took a rapid step back.

“… The bullet nicked an artery…”

Before she could finish, John pushed passed her. All but kicking the door down and lunging into the room.

Tears started rolling down John’s face as moved closer to the bed.

He choked back a sob when he saw Harold. His skin was deathly white, and his closed eyes dark and sunken… but he was breathing… the slow rise and fall of his partner’s chest almost made John’s chest stop rising and falling.

He had a nasal cannula going into his nose, an IV catheter coming out of his arm; his bloody suit jacket that John had used to still the blood flow in the car was discarded on a chair in the corner.

“He’s going to be fine.” He heard Shaw say from the doorway. “He’ll be out of commission for a while… but he’ll be fine.”

John pulled over a chair and sat down next to his partner, “Finch…” He croaked, his voice breaking. He grabbed his partner’s pale hand.

An expression of pain etched on Harold’s face. His eyes squinting and his mouth clenched tight. “John…” He uttered, barely louder than a whisper.

John sat up in the chair; he pushed the sweaty matted hair back from Harold’s forehead, “Harold? I’m here…” He noticed the tears streaming down Harold’s cheeks, “Are you in pain?”

“My… suit…” Harold croaked.

John’s brow furrowed and then his attention turned to the ruined suit jacket and pants hanging over the back of the chair. He turned back to Harold who had a small ghost of a smile on his face.

John let out a relieved huff of air, something that was supposed to be a laugh, “It was a good suit…” He laughed, tears streaming down his face. John raised his hand and gently put his palm on Harold’s face and looked him in the eyes and said in a trembling voice, “We’ll get you another one. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Harold smiled too, squeezing John’s hand, “Me too,” He whispered, looking up to John with loving, watery eyes.

John leaned down and kissed him, “I love you.”

Harold smiled again and replied, “Me too.” Before he fell unconscious, still smiling in contentment at John’s declaration.


	42. Laser Tag

Harold hid over in the corner of the room. He ducked down, hearing footsteps on the other side of the wall.

He heard the sounds of a laser gun shooting, and then Fusco’s voice, “Damnit Wonderboy…”

It was Harold, Root, and Fusco against Carter, Shaw, and John.

Naturally, John had wanted to be on Harold’s team… but Shaw punched him in the arm and told him that he was on her team “whether he liked it or not.”

Harold closed his eyes, his head falling against the wall behind him. He never liked things like this. He didn’t like guns, it didn’t matter if it was lasers or bullets that came out.

But John liked doing these things so he agreed to go.

A little… team bonding is what they called it.

All of a sudden, he was pulled gently but with determination to his feet and pushed up against the wall, John’s lips pressed against his fervently. John broke the kiss, his lips red and swollen.

“What was that?” Harold gasped, his glasses askew on his face.

“An apology…” John whispered.

“For what?” Harold huffed.

“This…” John smirked and shot Harold, turning around without another word.


	43. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, special thanks to M_E_Lover for all the beta work and encouragement!

Harold moves his head closer to John. He sits, frozen, from both fear and excitement. He leans in, so his forehead rests against John’s. They close their eyes. Their shared breaths, shuddering. "Thank you," John says in barely more than a whisper.

"For what?" Harold replies, his voice low and husky.

"For being you." John’s voice quavers, exhilarated from the sexual tension between them.

Harold leans in and gently kisses John's warm lips. They pull apart and both take a shaky, excited breath. Unable to contain themselves anymore, John takes Harold's face in his hands and pulls him into a fiery and passionate kiss.

Harold’s hands work their way around John’s body, feeling each muscle, each line along his perfect physique.

Harold was completely unprepared.

You would think that after all the time he’d spent with John - watching him talk, laugh and frown - that he would know all there was to know about his lips.

But he hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against his own. How right they’d feel…

“Wh… what…” Harold gasped, just realizing how crazy of a situation they were in.

“Tell me to leave… and I’ll leave…” John whispered, his palm caressing Harold’s cheek.

Harold was quiet for a moment, planning his next move. The circuits whirring in his head making him dizzy with desire.

“Stay.”

 


	44. What Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is always how I figured the finale would go. Well, the Rooftop scene anyways. Especially after I saw the trailers and BTS stuff for the finale.   
> So here it is! You can never have enough fix-its ;) 
> 
> Thanks to M_E_Lover as always for the beta work!

Harold walked out through the rooftop door, his hand pressed firmly against his abdomen. The place where the bullet had driven its way into his flesh earlier still bleeding, soaking further into the layers of his clothing.

“Did you remember your pearl of wisdom?” Harold asked the machine, not caring enough to realize he was talking to Root’s ghost.

Harold heard the door slam shut behind him. He spun around, his gun raised.

Expecting to see Samaritan agents… his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw his unmistakable six foot three, dark haired partner standing in front of him.

“John?” He choked out a sob, “What…”

“What are you going to do Finch? Shoot me?” John asked, his ex-spy grin present.

Harold squeezed his eyes shut and he let out a breath, “This is my fault… I need to do this… alone.” He opened his eyes, “Go, John… Now…” He kept the gun pointed at his partner.

John put his hands up, “Harold… you can’t do this by yourself… let me help you,” He said, his eyes pleading. “I’m not leaving you…” He continued when Harold didn’t answer.

“Please… leave…” Harold whispered. “This doesn’t concern you anymore… this is my problem to resolve.”

“I’d say you made it my problem when you dragged me out of that precinct five years ago, Harold,” John huffed and smirked.

Harold huffed painfully… even with imminent death close… John’s smile still made Harold’s heart flutter.

Harold slowly let the gun fall to his side and John moved toward him quickly. He gently took Harold’s face into his hands and drew him into a kiss.

Harold pulled back, his forehead falling to John’s. “What…?”

“In case we don’t make it out of here… I don’t want the last thing we do to be a fight…” He smiled sadly.

Harold let out a breath and gently placed the gun in John’s hand, “I need to start the transfer…”

John pushed the gun back to his hand, “No… I’m going to try to hold them off for as long as I can, Harold…” He looked at the door and then back to his partner, “I want you to stay behind me no matter what… but if I go down… I want you to have a chance…”

Harold wouldn’t take the gun, putting his hands up, palms toward John. “Any world without you… isn’t a world worth living…”

He heard his earpiece buzz, “ _Three Samaritan operatives on their way up the stairs,”_ Came Root’s voice. “ _Heavily armed_.”

John smirked, “Go out in a blaze of glory?”

“That sounds horrible,” Harold replied and turned around to start to the transmission.

#

When he finished and the dust settled… Harold couldn’t believe what he was seeing. John had held off almost all of the Samaritan agents without them getting as close as five feet to Harold.

Harold could have sworn that one of them shot John in the shoulder, but his partner didn’t even flinch.

“John…” Harold breathed out in disbelief. He looked around at all of the bodies of the Samaritan agents on the ground.

The tall man turned around to face Harold, “We did it,” He smiled.

Harold smiled in return, but suddenly he felt lightheaded and his legs felt like they were going to give out.

His brows furrowed and he reached out for John, who was at his side in a second, holding him up. “Harold?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

“I… I don’t…” Harold slumped a little bit in John’s arms. “I don’t feel very well…” He breathed out before he collapsed into John’s hold.

#

Harold was floating. He could hear sounds around him but he couldn’t really make out what they were.

The tug of oblivion was too much and he was pulled into a sea of darkness.

#

Harold was much more aware the next time he woke up. This time he could clearly tell he was in a hospital. He had a dull ache in his stomach and there was a sharp pain in his neck.

He cracked his eyes open and took a deep breath, which caused him to break into a coughing fit. He tucked into himself and groaned at the pain the coughing caused in his stomach.

“Hey… Easy…” A comforting hand fell to his back and gently rubbed up and down his spine. A Styrofoam cup of water was held in front of him, “Here… drink.”

He looked up to see John standing beside him, holding the water to his lips. He gratefully accepted the cool liquid and swallowed what he could of it gratefully.

He relaxed back into the pillow and let out a breath, “What happened…?” He asked weakly.

John smiled at him and kissed his forehead, “We won, Harold.”

Harold looked at John with wide eyes. He couldn’t register what to say. The idea that they had actually won wasn’t clicking in his brain.

Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the fact that he really had no clue what had just happened in the past 12 hours.

He just now realized that John was wearing a sling. “What happened to your arm?”

John chuckled, “Took one to the shoulder. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me…” He ran his hand through Harold’s hair.

“Where are we?” Harold asked, looking around the room.

“Hospital upstate. Thought you’d want to get away from the city,” John chuckled and sat down on the edge of the hospital bed.

Harold just smiled and closed his eyes, “You thought correctly.”

Harold just laid there for a while and John figured he must have fallen asleep, until Harold cleared his throat, “So… what do we do now?”

John smiled, his pearly whites shining, “Oh… I don’t know… what do people do when they retire? Florida? Clearwater sounds nice.”

Harold chuckled a bit and grabbed John’s hand, “Clearwater sounds wonderful.”


	45. Papa Bear part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt has aged up a bit since the last part in this series.

“Matthew Nathan Reese, please come down here, now,” Harold shouted upstairs.

“Uh oh… full name. What’d he do now?” John asked, setting the newspaper he was reading down onto the table.

Just then, the younger boy came moping down the stairs, clearly knowing he was in trouble.

“What have I said about using the machine to cheat on exams?” Harold crossed his arms over his chest.

“I… uh…” Matt stuttered, trying to think of a valid excuse.

John sat at the table and looked on, hiding a smirk behind his hand.

“You’re grounded. Two weeks,” Harold started.

“But Dad!” the smaller boy argued, throwing his hands in the air.

“No but’s! Get up to your room, now!” Harold pointed up the stairs, his eyes glaring at the younger boy.

Matt stomped up the stairs, his hands clenched into fists.

Harold turned around to John and slumped down into one of the chairs at the table, “I don’t understand what goes through that boy’s head.”

“Give him a break, Finch. Not everyone’s a genius,” the taller man chuckled and sipped his coffee.

“That is not an excuse for cheating. He knows I’m always here if he needs help.” Harold huffed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “I hate being the mean parent.”

“Well, I’m not complaining. I love being the nice dad.” He winked at Harold and stood up. “Don’t let it get to you.” He moved behind Harold who had his elbows propped up on the table and his face in his hands. “You’re a great dad. I know it and they know it too.” John pointed to a picture of the two kids hanging on the wall.

Harold smiled, “I suppose…” He stood up and kissed John, “You don’t think I was too hard on him?”

“No. And someday he’ll realize you were just being a responsible, caring dad.” John smiled, pressing another kiss to Harold’s lips.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” Harold hummed.

John’s hands drifted to his stomach and he pressed soft kisses to his neck, “Because I’m the good parent, remember?” he teased.


	46. Christmas!!.... In September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was in the Christmas mood today! Lol 
> 
> Special thanks to M_E_Lover as always for the beta'ing and just being awesome!

Harold was up on a ladder, finishing up with the last string of lights on the Christmas tree.

“I’m almost done here, John. Then we can go make the…” Mid-sentence, Harold’s foot slipped and he lost his balance.

He threw his hands out reflexively, trying to grab onto something to prevent him from falling, but there was nothing in reach.

Expecting to hit the floor with a painful thud, he clenched his eyes shut and braced himself for the impact.

Surprisingly, he landed, but not with a thud, it was much less painful than he expected, it felt like he was being embraced in a… hug?

“Careful, Harold.”

Harold opened his eyes to see John looking down at him, his eyes glimmering and a smile on his face.

“How did you…” Harold couldn’t believe that John had caught him. He was in the other room when his foot slipped.

“My Finchy senses were tingling,” John chuckled. “Well… well… well. Look what we have here…” He looked up at the ceiling above them where a mistletoe that Harold could have sworn wasn’t there earlier, now hung.

Harold smirked and pursed his lips as the younger man leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“How about you let me handle the ladder jobs from now on? We wouldn’t want you to spend the holidays concussed, now would we?” John chuckled and set Harold back on his feet.

“Yes… perhaps that would be a good idea…” Harold smoothed down his ruffled shirt. “How about that eggnog?” He headed toward the kitchen.

“Only if we can mix it with booze,” John called after him, looking up to the mistletoe and grabbing it to take into the kitchen.


	47. Marry Me

John collapsed down beside Harold.

He huffed out a contented breath, his eyes falling closed and then opened them and turned his attention to his partner. The afterglow, that of pleasure, that radiated on his skin and the glassy and sated look in his eyes made John's heart beat fondly.

He looked back up at the ceiling, staring at the blank white tiles.

Harold rolled over onto his side and wrapped an arm around John’s bare chest. He buried his face into John’s neck and purred.

They stayed silent for a while until a bubbling need started to rise in John’s chest. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he couldn’t shake it.

All of a sudden, he heard himself blurt out, “Marry me.”

He didn’t dare look down at Harold. Didn’t want to see the look on his face. Because if he did and he didn’t like what he saw… it would ruin him.

He felt Harold shift and propped himself up on an elbow so that he was looking into John’s eyes, “Yes.”

John’s heart jumped, “Really?”

Harold leaned down and pressed his lips to the younger man’s, “Absolutely.”

John sat up and nudged Harold to lie back down; he stretched out on top of him and locked their lips together again and showed him just how happy Harold had made him.


	48. Stakeout-Makeout

Harold and John were on a stakeout. They sat in the black Lexus, watching intently to what was going on. It was January in New York, so it wasn’t one of the warmest days.

“Can you turn the heat up?” Harold groaned, wrapping himself tighter in his coat.

“It’s up all the way,” John replied, turning the vent more toward Harold.

Harold just let out a breath and sunk down in his seat.

John looked over at him and smirked, “You know… I could think of something that may warm you up…” he winked.

Harold scoffed, “I’m not having sex with you in the back of this car. That doesn’t even sound remotely comfortable.”

John chuckled, “You’re telling me you’ve never done it in a car before?” he huffed.

Harold didn’t answer and just turned his attention outside. Watching the snow fall around them. Blanketing the street with soft powder.

John’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious…” He stopped when he saw Harold’s face start to get red. “Well, then we have to do it, Harold… you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

Harold looked at John somewhat bashfully, “What about Mister Black? What if something happens?”

“He’s asleep. We can keep the audio from his phone up and if something happens… well… we can figure that out then.”

Harold didn’t say anything. He just looked straight out of the windshield. But then he turned to face John and smirked, “I am rather cold…”

John smiled and pressed his lips to his partner’s, “I promise I’ll warm you up.”

 

 


	49. Nightmares...

Harold woke up in the middle of the night. He cracked open his eyes and blinked away the sleepiness.

He saw John shudder in his sleep, kicking and mumbling half-words.

Harold sat up a little when John’s breathing sped up, his hands clenched the sheets tightly, his eyes squeezed shut.

Harold’s seen this enough. It kills him that John has to suffer like this. That he’s been through so many horrible things in his life that he can’t even get peace in his sleep.

Harold wrapped his arms around John’s shuddering body. Enclosing him in a warm embrace.

John struggled at first, murmuring things that Harold couldn’t quite understand. But after about a minute or two, he calmed down. It almost felt like he melted in Harold’s arms.

His body unwound inch by tender inch.

Then he murmured something that Harold could understand, “Harold…”

It wasn’t the usual strained, gasp-like mumble that he usually heard… This was soft and tender.

Harold rested his forehead on John’s back; he felt his breathing slow down and relax. Soon, he fell into a deep sleep too. His arms wrapped around his partner.

\-----

When Harold opened his eyes in the morning, John was spread out on his back, his head resting against Harold’s shoulder, and Harold reached over to turn off the alarm before he shifted closer to John and let himself drift back to sleep.

 


	50. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold and John watch Lost.... ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to M_E_Lover for beta'ing!

**__**Harold and John sat snuggled up on the couch. John’s feet were up on the footstool and Harold was laying against John’s side, his head on his partner’s lap.

It was a cold, rainy day. They hadn’t had a number all day, so they decided that maybe they could take the opportunity to make it Netflix marathon kind of day.

“This Ben guy looks just like you…” John chuckled and tossed a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“He does not…” Harold looked at John affronted, with his brow raised.

“The only thing he’s missing is the glasses… he’s basically your doppelganger, Harold.” John ran his hand down Harold’s shoulder, “He reminds me of a certain Mr. Egret.”

“Oh please. Benjamin Linus is a manipulative supervillain… Egret is just a… well, he’s an intimidating man but he’s not quite so… manipulative.” Harold sat up, a bit annoyed, “And he does not look like me!” He raised his voice in irritation.

John chuckled and put his hands up in defense, “Okay… jeez…” They both turned their attention back to the TV. “That outburst was pretty Ben-like…” John mumbled under his breath.

“That’s it.” Harold sat up and left the room in a huff.

“Oh, Harold…” John laughed and called after him. “Come on… I was just kidding!”

John thought the reaction that Harold had with the comparison was endearing and had to wipe the grin off his face as he got up to go after him and apologize with a shower of kisses.


	51. Papa Bear part 4 (How it started)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed an excuse to write shameless Reese whump/a fix-it... so this was the result.  
> Comments and feedback are appreciated for my insecure self.

John woke up and rubbed his eyes. The painful twinge in his shoulder reminded him to go slow. _Slow_. That was basically his life right now. The showdown of the roof with Samaritan had left him injured, crippled, and pissed off.

He woke up in a hospital a month after everything had gone down, with a breathing tube down his throat, in so many casts and braces that he had lost count and more tubes and wires attached to him than a vacuum. 

Harold was there. Even though he told him to go more than once. Four months had passed before John was able to leave. Harold whisked him away to the suburbs and they started over.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his crutches that were leaning on the wall.

Harold and the doctor had insisted he get a cane, but he refused… Saying that it made him look too old.

He pushed himself up, using the two crutches as leverage. He let out a long, pained breath as he straightened himself up.

He made his way out into the kitchen to find Harold sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea. He looked up from his paper and smiled at John, “Morning.”

“Morning,” John replied. He went over to a chair and slumped down. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs Benedict.” Harold stood up and shuffled over to the cabinet where all of John’s medication was held. He grabbed four bottles and sat them down on the counter.

“Sounds good.” John leaned the two crutches against the table and grabbed the paper from Harold’s spot at the table.

The smaller man made his way over to the table and set down John’s array of pills. “No hiding them under your tongue this time either,” Harold scolded.

John hated all the medication. It made him feel like a zombie. He tried to go without it for a few days about a week ago. But it resulted in him being in so much pain, Harold had to call an ambulance just to get him out of bed and to the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah…” John groaned and swallowed the pills down with a swig of orange juice.

“Open and lift up your tongue…” Harold motioned for him to open his mouth.

“Seriously…” John rolled his eyes.

“You want to act like a toddler, I must treat you like one.” Harold raised his brow.  

John opened his mouth and put his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “There… happy?” he garbled out with his mouth open.

“Very.” The hacker went over to the stove and brought back John’s breakfast. “Bon Appétit,” Harold smiled.

John picked up his fork with a shaky hand. Nerve damage in his arm causing tremors in his hand more often than not.

He dug into the eggs, his appetite had started to come back in waves. He was trying to gain all the weight back that he had lost when he was lying in a hospital bed for months.

“Jason will be over in a few for your PT session.” Harold leaned down and put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders gently, “How about we take it easy today? Don’t push yourself too hard like last time…”

John rolled his eyes, “I should be getting better by now…”

“John, it’s going to take time…”

“Harold…” John warned. His shoulders tensed and Harold knew to stop right there. John was frustrated with the slow recovery. More than anything he was frustrated with himself. He thought that since he was in tip-top shape before the accident… that he should be able to get back there quickly.

But that just wasn’t going to happen.

The doctors and therapists had told them that he would regain full strength in his arms, but the nerve damage would leave him with tremors. His left leg on the other hand… he would only regain about 70 percent usage.

His last PT session, he had pushed himself so hard that he was left sore, tired, and exhausted. He was barely able to move for the next few days.

Harold backed off, walking back over to his seat at the table and snagging the paper back from John.

“Have you given any thought to our trip?” Harold asked nonchalantly as he sipped his tea and skimmed through the paper.

“I can barely get out of bed, Harold. You want me to go to Hawaii with you?” John replied between bites with a scowl.

“John…”

John got up from the table, “Come get me when Jason gets here.” He grabbed his crutches and left the room, heading back for their bedroom.

Harold set the paper down and sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. Bear had watched the whole interaction from his bed. His ears pointed down at the floor when John had gotten upset.

“He’s just… having a rough time,” Harold replied, going over to pet the dog on the head. “He’ll be back to his old self again soon… I hope.”

The truth was… John had barely spoken to Harold over the past month that they’d been home. He spent a majority of his time in their bedroom… alone.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Harold walked over and looked through the peephole. It was Jason. He opened the door with a smile, “Good morning, Jason. Come in.”

The muscular, somewhat short man made his way into the house, “How’s he doing today?” he asked, looking around and noticing that John wasn’t there.

“He’s… well, I’m afraid he’s not in the best of moods. I may have brought up the trip a little prematurely and it set him off.”

Jason knew about the trip that Harold had talked about trying to get John to agree to. Jason thought it was a good idea to be sure. Get John out of the house, get him to start feeling a little bit normal again, less claustrophobic. And Harold had said that they would like Jason to come along just in case John needed him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Ahhh. Well, I’ll go see what I can do about that.” Jason smirked and headed for the back bedroom.

#

“John. I can’t help you if you won’t go at the pace I set for you,” Jason sighed, his head falling in frustration.

“The pace you’ve set is too slow. I can handle it. I need to start getting better soon. I haven’t seen any improvement since I’ve come home.”

“That’s because you’re not taking it at the pace you should be. You go too fast and try to do too much. We had to postpone your sessions for a week and a half because you screwed up and tried to be a tough guy. Do you realize how much progress was lost in that week and a half?”

John just kept his attention on the small dumbbells he was lifting, feeling irritated by the reminder.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Jason stood up, “Five more and we’re done for the day.” He started to put away all the equipment and headed out of the room but stopped in the doorway, "I'll get you back on your feet, John. I promise. It's just going to take time. I’ll see you in a few days.”

#

Harold made his way into their bedroom expecting to find John, but he wasn’t in the room.

Jason had told him about their conversation, and Harold had wanted to provide a little bit of comfort and apologize for earlier.

“John?” he called out.

“In here.”

 Harold turned his attention to the bathroom where he heard John’s voice. He cracked open the door to see John sitting on the bathtub, his head in his hands.

Harold’s heart clenched, “John?” he moved closer, “Are you okay?”

John lifted his head up, “Been better,” he chuckled.

Harold sat down next to him on the tub, “Do you want to talk about it?”

John just looked at him with a sad smile, “I used to be able to do anything. Run, fight… hell, I used to be able to get out of bed without groaning in pain.”

Harold smiled.

“It’s just going to take some time for me to get used to this,” John put his head back in his hands, “Not to mention I can’t protect myself… or you.”

Harold huffed, “John, we’re far from needing protection anymore…” He put his hand on John’s shoulder, “besides if the time came, I’m sure you’d be able to take down anybody. I have seen you throw a man out a window while you were on crutches for crying out loud. ”

John chuckled a bit, “Yeah… I guess… I guess I just need a purpose again.”

Harold shifted a bit, trying to decide if now was the right time or not to talk about what he had been looking into.

Finally deciding to just go for it, “So… I’ve been meaning to mention… One of the orphanages that the Harold Wren alias owns received two new children about a week ago…” He was looking straight forward at the wall and not at John but he could feel John looking at him with his brows raised. “They’re brother and sister. The boy is a year old and the girl is five… They need a home.”

He felt John tense. He was processing what was going through his head. Trying to figure it out.

“I’ve spoken with the woman in charge, she said that they’re very good children. Their parents died in a car accident and they don’t have any family that could take them in and…” He looked at John, “I was thinking that maybe…?”

John let out a breath and looked at Harold, “… I… just... Harold…” He smirked a bit but was clearly taken off guard.

“I know it sounds… well downright irrational and impulsive right now… but you said yourself you need a purpose…” Harold smiled, “and maybe I do too.”

John beamed, “Let’s do it.”

Harold’s eyes grew wide, “Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t feel like we have to, John…”

“I’m 100 percent sure.” John smiled and brought the smaller man into a kiss.


	52. Work Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His hold tightens in John’s hair and John slows his pace. Teasing Harold until he’s a mumbling puddle of need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I don't know what got into me but here's a bit of smut added to the fluffy collection of fics.  
> I haven't updated this in over a month, which is crazy. 
> 
> This is a prompt from Sky's Tumblr thread for fanfic ideas.
> 
> Thanks as always to the wonderful M_E_Lover for all the beta work and encouragement!

Harold was at his desk wrapping up their latest number. Moving money to various charity accounts and setting up their victim with an alias that they could use for the rest of their life.

He looked up to see John walking toward him with a smirk on his face. The taller man leans down and presses a few soft kisses to Harold’s neck.

“Let’s get out of here…” John purrs into Harold’s ear.

“I can’t…” Harold groans. “I still have to finish things up here and a few other things…” His eyes close in pleasure when John ran his tongue over the spot on Harold’s neck that sends a desire straight to his groin.

“Are you sure…” John runs his hands down to unbutton the silk vest.

But Harold slaps his hands away. “I can’t… John…” He clears his throat and turns his attention back to the computer.

John huffs and moves over to the other side of the desk. He slides a piece of paper off the desk, and kneels down to grab it, but he looks underneath the table and a mischievous grin comes to his face.

Harold is so engrossed in the paperwork that he didn’t even notice John crawl under the desk. It was when he felt John run his hands up and down his thighs that his breath catches, “J… John?”

“Mmmmm?” John hums and moves his hand to the bulge in Harold’s pants that communicated to John that he had, in fact, wanted to leave.

Harold’s hips move forward involuntarily, and he suppresses a small groan.

John smiles and reaches for his zipper.

Harold rakes his fingers through the fine hair on John's neck and when John reaches under the waistband of Harold's boxers, there's a tug on the back of his head, the pull of Harold's fingers in his hair insistent.

John resists, if only for the thrill of receiving another, sharper tug that makes his cock twitch in his increasingly tight pants.

Harold gasped in pleasure when John’s hot mouth covered his growing manhood and sucked while his clever tongue did things that made him crazy with lust.

Harold’s hips arch, and John puts his hands on his upper thighs to ease him back into the chair.

“J… John…” he gasps.

John looks above him and sees that Harold’s face is red and his glasses are fogged over. His eyes are closed, and his breath is coming in ragged gasps.

His hold tightens in John’s hair and John slows his pace. Teasing Harold until he’s a mumbling puddle of need.

Harold groaned and tugged on John’s shoulders.

John complied and let himself be lead up and now he stood in front of Harold.

Harold pulled John down for a kiss.

“You win…” Harold murmurs into his partner’s ear and John helps him out of the chair and pushes all of the contents of the desk over to the side and eases Harold down against it.

He urges Harold’s pants down to his ankles and goes to work on his own belt. John pulled the lube out of his pocket and slicked up his own aching cock, and positioned himself at Harold’s entrance. Harold gave John a look of desperation, “Are you _trying_ to make me crazy John?”

John grinned and slowly pushed into him. John’s cock was heavy and hot, as it pressed inside his lover, opening him gently, stretching him and filling them both with pleasure.

“Are you sure you don’t have work to go back to?” John had that spy smirk on his face and Harold wanted to punch him.

“Just... move… please…” Harold gasped weakly, eyes pressed closed, hands balled into useless fists at his side. John slid inside deeper and deeper, opening Harold wide and filling him up completely, and then, leaning forward to take Harold’s mouth in his.

“Please,” Harold moaned brokenly, and he didn’t know what he was begging for, but he couldn’t stop saying it. He scratched frantically at John’s muscled back, trying to grab onto something, to hold onto something.

John held him close, murmuring encouragements and rubbing his back with strong, warm hands, pushing into him and then slowly pulling out, kissing his mouth over and over, until he came with frantic abandon and spilled deep inside Harold with an intoxicating rush.

Barely able to hold himself up anymore, John slid a hot wet hand up and down Harold’s cock, and the pleasure from both sides at the same time was too much for Harold, he couldn’t hold out any longer, and collapsed with a violent shudder against the table.

For a long time, they just lay there, clutching each other, hearts pounding, listening to each other's breathing.

“Would you like to get back to your work now?” John murmured with a smile against Harold’s ear.

“Shut up and let’s go to bed.”


	53. You Can't Be Serious

“Oh my God…” John moaned.

“Mmmmmm…” Harold hummed, licking his lips.

“I can’t believe I’ve never tried this before…” John’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“The fact that this is the first s’more you’ve ever eaten worries me a bit, John…” Harold chuckled, licking the chocolate off his finger. “Next are you going to tell me you haven’t ever had apple pie?”

There was silence in the room and John just kept shoving his mouth full of the savory graham cracker covered in chocolate and marshmallow.

Harold’s brows knit, “you can’t be serious!”


	54. Christmas Papa Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just pure teeth rotting domestic Christmas fluff. Because that's what I need right now. 
> 
> Thanks to M_E_Lover for the beta and being amazing.

It was Christmas morning. The kids were up and ready to open presents at 6 am sharp.

“Dad!” Matthew yelled, “Get up! It’s Christmas, Santa came!” He jumped up onto their bed and started jumping up and down.

John rolled over and tackled the young boy into a Bearhug. “Well, I guess we have to go out and check for Reindeer tracks, don’t we?”

Matthew wiggled and tried to get out of John’s hold. He failed miserably. John looked over at Harold, still with his eyes squinted shut, trying to act like he was still asleep.

“But we have to get papa up first…” John whispered, winking at his son. “What do you say? I think a nice ice-cold bucket of water will get him right up…”

“Okay. Okay. I’m up!” Harold groaned, rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed to put his slippers on.

John loosened his hold a bit and Matthew wiggled free, running back out to the living room.

John stood up and walked over and stood in front of Harold, nudging himself in between Harold’s legs that were hanging off the bed, “Merry Christmas… Santa.” He bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his partner’s lips.

“Merry Christmas, Misses Clause,” Harold chuckled and smiled at his grinning partner.


	55. Zoo Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has been... difficult lately. Well everything has been difficult. But I'm finally getting back into the swing of things thanks to the wonderful, amazing, bad ass M_E_Lover.   
> So shout out to her for everything, including this beta and idea! Lol

Harold handed over a ten-dollar bill to the concession stand attendant. John was already picking at the cotton candy on a stick, watching the monkeys in their habitat.

“You know there are currently 264 known monkey species. Monkeys can be divided into two groups, Old World monkeys that live in Africa and Asia, and New World monkeys that live in South America,” Harold said absently, walking up to his partner.

“Oh?” John chuckled, “Well does your giant brain know how many types of lions there are? Because I want to go see those next.” John planted a soft kiss onto his partner’s forehead.

“There is actually only one species – the Panthera leo, however, there are several sub-species of lions which you may not know about…” Harold’s brow wrinkled when he noticed John looking at him, searching his body. “Something wrong, John?”

“I’m looking for the off switch…”

Harold’s brow furrowed and he got an amused smile on his face, “Very funny.”

The two of them started walking through the zoo. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. The numbers this week had been fairly easy and they rewarded themselves with a date to the zoo. John had never been to one, so Harold decided that’s where they were going.

After a little while inside Harold noticed the butterfly house coming up and grabbed John’s arm excitedly, “Let’s go see the butterflies…” His brow furrowed when John pulled his arm out of his grip. “John?”

“Let’s stop on the way back… I want to see the Lions…” John murmured, a nervous smile coming to his face.

“We’re here now… the Lions will still be there when we’re done…”

A slight flush crept up in John’s cheeks and he quickly glanced at the butterfly exhibit, then back to his partner, “Harold…”

Harold’s eyes grew wide behind his thick black frames, “You can’t be serious…” Harold thought John was joking but when he didn’t laugh, Harold frowned. “You’re… afraid of butterflies…?”

John turned and started to walk away. His mouth screwed tight in irritation and embarrassment.

Harold hustled after him, “John! Wait!” He caught up to him and put his hand on the small of his back gently, “I’m sorry… Let’s forget about it.” He smiled, kissing John’s cheek.

John put his arm around the smaller man and they headed towards the lion exhibit. After they walked a while in silence, Harold smiled, “Was it a bad experience as a child or…?”

“I thought we were going to drop it, Harold…” John groaned, running his hands down his face.

Harold chuckled and grabbed John’s hand, intertwining their fingers, “Okay, but if you want to we’ll talk about this later…"

John looked at his partner warmly but sternly, “I’d prefer it if we didn’t.”

Harold could tell by John’s expression that he must have had a very bad experience at some point in his life. “As you wish, John.” He smiled at his partner and brought his hand to his lips and kissed it, “As you wish.”

The rest of the day was extremely enjoyable and the incident with the butterflies was put behind them and forgotten for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Like John I am personally terrified of butterflies!! hahah


	56. Valentines Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day everyone! Today's a much more thankful Valentines Day for me than usual, so I hope you all had a great day and enjoy this little ficlet! 
> 
> Thanks to M_E_Lover as always for the beta!

Harold walks up to the library sleepily. He and John were up all night enjoying certain… _activities_ … the kind of activities that couples do together the night before Valentine ’s Day.

John was still sleeping when he left him earlier. So, he stopped at his favorite food cart on the way and purchased his usual morning Sencha green tea, grabbed a box of heart-shaped donuts from the bakery on 21st street, and headed to the library.

When he made it up the stairs, he unlocked the gate and flipped the light switch on and was shocked to see what had to be well over 100 red and pink roses surrounding his work-station.

He made a surprised “Oh,” sound and heard John chuckle from somewhere inside the field of flowers.

“Happy Valentines Day,” the soft, raspy voice came out from the flowers.

Harold laughed, “How did you get here so fast? You were asleep when I left…” He set down the box of pastries and his tea.

“Do you just forget that you’re dating an ex-spy?” John chuckled, and some of the flowers moved, giving away his position.

Harold rolled his eyes and started to pick his way through all the lovely smelling roses. He made it to his partner and planted a kiss on his lips, “What are we going to do with all these?” He laughed, looking around when he broke the kiss.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead…” John’s brow rose, and he smiled.

Suddenly they heard a sneeze. Bear was somewhere in the sea of flowers too.

Harold chuckled and was lifted up onto his desk, John was standing between his legs. “How about we just pick up where we left off last night?” John purred against his neck, pressing soft kisses there.

“That sounds wonderful…” Harold groaned and let himself be laid back onto the desk while John happily did just that.


	57. Bring the Car Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been out of the fandom for about a month and a half. Real life took a pretty rough turn for the worst and things are just now starting to look alright and settle down somewhat. Thanks to M_E_Lover for the beta and being an amazing friend throughout the past month! She is a saint and I cannot thank her enough.   
> I hope you all enjoy and comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! I hope I'm not too rusty haha

Harold and John were at an art exhibit at one of the larger New York City museums. Their number had been a docent there for years.

Harold walked around casually, looking at the paintings here and there along the walls. He was sipping from a glass of Champagne when John coolly got into his personal space and brushed up against his backside. The taller man leaned over and whispered in Harold’s ear salaciously, “If it wasn’t so crowded in here, I’d push you up against the wall and make you scream…” then went along as if nothing happened.

Harold spluttered and choked on his drink, causing the small group of people next to them to stare at him. He kindly nodded that he was okay as a warm flush spread across his face.  

He tapped his earpiece, as John was already halfway across the room, “Call Ms. Shaw… tell her to contact Detective Fusco… they can handle things from here.” Harold glanced around the room, “and John…” Harold cleared his throat and grinned roguishly, “bring the car around.”

John smirked and loosened his tie on the way out of the door, “You got it, boss.”


End file.
